r 


:s 


DAVID  WARFIELD 


Ghetto  Silhouettes 


DAVID   WAR 

5s'  MARGHERITY 


NEW  YORK 
V/    (II7AH 


DAVID    WARFIELD 


Ghetto 
Silhouettes 


By 

DAVID  WARFIELD 

MARGHERITA   ARLINA   HAMM 


NEW  YORK 
JAMES   POTT   &   COMPANY 

MCMII 


Copyrighted,  1902,  by 

£S  POTT  &  COMPANY 

r 


Flr$t  Imprestion  September^ 


PREFACE 


\ 


stories  'which  compose  this  vol 
ume  are  based  upon  sketches  made 
from  the  daily  life  of  the  famous 
East  Side  of  New  York  City.  This  dis 
trict,  which  is  probably  the  most  populous 
one  upon  the  globe,  lies  between  the  Bowery 
and  the  East  River,  which  form  its  east  and 
west  boundaries,  and  from  Catherine  Street 
to  Houston.  Here  Mr.  Warfield  gathered 
material  for  his  professional  work  as  an  actor 
and  playwright  and  Miss  Hamm  spent  much 
time  during  four  years  of  labor  as  a  Social 
Settlement  worker.  Nearly  all  of  the  inci 
dents  are  taken  from  actual  facts,  especially 
those  which  seem  the  most  improbable.  'The 
life  of  the  Ghetto  is  like  and  unlike  that  of 
every  other  crowded  district  in  the  metropolis. 
Its  unlikeness  seems  to  justify  the  presentation 
of  its  dramatic  incidents  in  the  form  of  fiction. 


TABLE  of  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    I  Page 

The  End  of  the  Dream    ....        i 

CHAPTER    II 

The  Romance  of  a  Minder    .     .     .     28 

CHAPTER    III 

Revenge  is  Mine 44 

CHAPTER    IV 

The  Story  of  Philip 6 1 

CHAPTER    V 

The  Run  on  Jobblelousky' s   .     .     .      8 1 

CHAPTER   VI 

A  Bird  of  Prey 95 

CHAPTER   VII 

Solomon  and  Santa  Claus       .     .     .    1 1 1 
[  vii] 


TABLE    of    CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   VIII  ftgt 

The  God  of  His  Fathers  .  .     .     .133 

CHAPTER    IX 

The  Ruin  of  a  Schatcben  .     .     .155 

CHAPTER   X 

A  Monument  of  Patience  .     .     .173 


GHETTO 
SILHOUETTES 


r 


The  ^Lnd  of  the  Dream 

WHEN  his  wife  Sarah  died, 
Joshua  Galitz  fell  in  a  stu 
por  which  lasted  two  days. 
There  was  a  feeling  of  unspeakable  loss 
and  bereavement.  There  was  also,  and  it 
frightened  him  so  much  that  he  feared  to 
brood  upon  it,  a  sense  of  relief.  His  life 
in  Little  Wallachia  had  never  been  happy, 
as  far  back  as  he  could  remember ;  while 
his  married  life  in  the  village  of  Zatreni 
had  been  one  long  sorrow  and  pain.  Race- 
prejudice  ran  deep,  and  the  sudden  and 
unexpected  liberty  which  war  and  states 
manship  had  conferred  upon  the  little 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


kingdom  of  Roumania  had  been  put  to 
strange  uses  by  the  Wallachians  in  general 
and  the  people  of  Zatreni  in  particular. 
Under  Turkish  rule,  the  Jew,  though  de 
spised,  had  been  protected.  It  was  true 
that  his  taxes  were  three  times  those  of 
the  Christian  and  six  times  those  of  the 
"  Faithful/'  but  their  payment  insured 
him  good  treatment  in  nearly  every  sense 
of  the  word.  The  expulsion  of  the  Turk 
had  brought  about  unfortunate  results. 
The  new  officials  were  coarse,  brutal,  and 
intolerant  men,  who  took  advantage  of 
their  new  power  to  gratify  every  grudge 
and  to  despoil  every  possible  victim. 
Joshua's  taxes  had  been  doubled,  and,  in 
place  of  protection,  he  had  received  con 
tumely,  insult,  and  violence.  Twice  he 
had  complained  to  the  local  magistrate. 
On  the  first  occasion  he  had  been  fined 
for  "contempt  of  court"  and  beaten  se 
verely  by  the  defendant,  who  had  pre- 

1*1 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


viously  spit  in  his  face  and  called  his  wife 
opprobrious  names.  On  the  second  occa 
sion,  he  had  been  thrown  into  jail  for 
bringing  a  false  complaint  against  a  citi 
zen  of  the  godly  kingdom  of  Roumania. 
It  is  true  the  citizen  was  a  drunken  roue, 
who  had  insulted  Joshua's  wife,  but  the 
only  witnesses  against  the  scoundrel  were 
Hebrews,  and  in  Little  Wallachia,  the 
word  of  one  Christian  outweighs  the 
oaths  of  twenty  Jews. 

Under  these  auspices  the  wife  had  faded 
away  and  died.  Time  and  again  Joshua 
had  begged  her  to  go  with  him  to  some 
other  country,  and  especially  to  that  great 
Republic  across  the  seas,  where  all  were 
wealthy  and  where  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  went  about  sparkling  with  gems. 
But  the  fond  heart  was  attached  to  her 
home,  and,  in  spite  of  her  wretched  life, 
she  loved  the  beautiful  place  which  was 
to  her,  as  it  ought  to  be  to  everybody,  an 

Is] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


earthly  paradise.  The  funeral  passed 
off  very  quietly  and  simply  ;  Jewish 
funerals  are  taxed  in  Little  Wallachia, 
and  for  each  florin  expended  by  affection 
upon  the  last  rites  of  mortality  two  are 
demanded  by  the  officials  of  the  place. 
A  week  passed,  and  then  Joshua  sold 
what  little  property  he  possessed,  and,  with 
his  son  David,  shook  the  dust  of  the  town 
from  his  feet  and  departed  along  that  in 
visible  road  which  leads  from  Roumania 
to  the  German  seaports,  and  thence  to 
New  York.  Had  it  not  been  for  David, 
who  was  a  bright  boy  of  seven  years,  the 
father  might  have  succumbed  upon  the 
way.  In  his  narrow  life  he  had  learned 
not  overmuch  of  the  world,  and  once 
outside  of  his  own  province  he  was  com 
pletely  at  sea.  He  knew  a  little  of  the 
Hungarian  speech,  and  so  managed  to  get 
through  that  land  with  comparatively 
small  trouble,  but  when  he  reached  the 
[4] 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


great   German-speaking  territory  he  was 
at  an  utter  loss. 

Here  David  came  to  the  front  and 
took  the  place  of  the  father.  The  child 
had  the  genius  of  his  race  for  acquir 
ing  languages,  and  even  before  they 
had  reached  Germany  had  picked  up 
enough  of  the  language  to  express  his 
wants.  Occasionally  they  encountered 
good  Samaritans,  who  treated  them  kind 
ly  and  well.  Occasionally,  too,  they  met 
members  of  their  own  race,  who  extend 
ed  hospitality,  and  for  a  brief  time  made 
their  lives  happy,  but  these  were  oases  in 
the  desert.  Everywhere  they  met  frowns 
and  rebuffs,  frequently  insults,  and  some 
times  physical  violence.  Three  times 
they  were  arrested  as  tramps,  and  on  one 
of  these  occasions  were  locked  up  for  a 
month  in  a  vile  jail.  Twice  they  were 
robbed  upon  the  road  and  unable  to  ob 
tain  any  redress.  Once,  not  far  fom  Ber- 

m 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


lin,  the  old  man  fell  sick  from  exposure 
and  weariness,  and  was  sent  to  the  public 
hospital,  where  he  lay  three  weeks  before 
his  strength  returned  sufficiently  to  re 
sume  the  journey. 

But  every  road  has  its  end  and  every 
lane  its  turning.  The  day  came  when 
they  reached  Hamburg  and  saw  the  for 
est  of  m#sts  in  the  river  and  the  brighter 
day,  when  the  great  steamer  moved  proud 
ly  into  the  Narrows  and  up  the  magnifi 
cent  harbor  of  the  American  metropolis. 
They  had  but  little  baggage.  Concealed 
in  the  old  man's  clothing  were  a  few 
precious  stones  and  bank-notes,  and  in 
the  pocket  of  his  waistcoat,  close  to  his 
heart,  was  a  worn  copy  of  the  Talmud, 
which  he  had  inherited  from  his  father. 
Upon  the  steamer  Joshua  passed  his  time 
in  studying  the  ancient  volume  and  ex 
plaining  it  to  David.  The  boy,  like  all 
healthy  children,  mingled  with  the  other 

[.*] 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


passengers  and  began  to  pick  up  words 
and  phrases  of  the  language  of  the  coun 
try  to  which  he  was  bound.  At  the 
barge-office  they  felt  inexpressibly  lonely 
and  crushed.  The  crowds,  the  roar  of 
the  mighty  city  and  the  towering  build 
ings  seemed  to  oppress  them.  But  sud 
denly  they  were  accosted  in  their  own 
speech  by  an  agent  of  the  Hebrew  United 
Charities.  It  sounded  like  a  voice  from 
Heaven.  The  father  burst  into  tears,  and 
the  son  fairly  grinned  with  delight.  The 
agent  was  a  faithful  official,  and  soon  had 
them  at  home  in  a  lodging-house  on  the 
East  Side.  Here  they  settled  down  and 
lived  for  eight  years.  Joshua  worked 
hard,  while  the  boy,  who  had  entered  the 
public  school  as  well  as  a  Hebrew  school 
shortly  after  his  arrival,  devoted  himself 
to  study  with  a  zeal  that  won  the  admi 
ration  of  his  teachers.  They  made  a  few 
acquaintances  who  endeavored  to  brighten 

[7] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


up  the  life  of  father  and  son.  The  lat 
ter  accepted  the  overtures  gladly,  but  the 
former  remained  aloof.  His  only  pleas 
ure  was  the  Talmud,  and  the  dreams  in 
which  the  imagination  tries  to  make 
amends  for  the  realities  of  the  past  and 
present. 

Not  long  after  his  arrival,  he  joined 
a  Zionist  club  and  soon  became  one  of 
its  enthusiastic  members.  For  two  or 
three  years  he  was  a  listener,  and  then  one 
night  at  a  dull  session  he  was  called  upon 
to  speak.  He  had  never  spoken  before 
in  public,  and  when  he  rose  the  little 
gathering  of  friends  seemed  a  vast  ocean 
of  eyes,  all  glaring  at  him.  He  faltered, 
and  for  a  minute  or  two  was  scarcely  able 
to  formulate  his  thought  in  words.  Then 
there  came  a  bright  light  into  his  brain, 
and  a  series  of  pictures  unfolded  them 
selves,  which  he  put  into  words.  The 
dreamer  had  awakened ;  the  place  was 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


forgotten  and  his  inner  thoughts  were 
being  projected  into  the  minds  of  his 
auditors.  The  meeting  had  been  unin 
teresting,  and  the  members  had  been 
whispering  and  yawning  from  ennui. 
But,  with  the  change  in  his  tone,  con 
versation  ceased,  and  an  intense  silence 
pervaded  the  room.  The  drowsiest  mem 
ber  became  painfully  awake,  and  all  sat 
there  listening  in  mute  fascination  at  this 
new  orator. 

It  was  a  strange  speech.  It  embodied 
the  years  of  his  Talmudic  studies,  his 
vague  hopes  and  terrible  sorrows,  his 
fierce  belief  in  the  God  of  his  Fathers 
and  the  future  of  his  race,  and  through 
all  the  poetry  and  splendor  of  his  dreams. 
He  never  knew  how  long  he  spoke,  nor 
did  the  members  of  his  club,  but  when 
he  stopped  from  sheer  physical  weakness, 
there  was  a  long  pause,  and  then  the 
club  broke  out  into  a  tumult  of  applause 

[9] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


and  shouting.  Old  men  with  tears  in 
their  eyes  rushed  forward  and  clasped  the 
astonished  man  to  their  hearts,  while 
young  men  struggled  to  clasp  his  hand. 

From  that  time  on,  he  was  the  Zion 
ist  orator  of  the  East  Side.  He  took  a 
strange  pleasure  in  his  new  occupation, 
and  by  degrees  there  came  upon  him  the 
desire  to  go  to  the  Holy  Land  and  visit 
the  city  of  the  great  kings  of  his  race. 

Often  he  would  discuss  it  with  David, 
and  each  time  he  drew  more  brilliant 
pictures  of  Jerusalem  than  before.  By 
degrees  the  pictures  became  realities.  His 
own  soul  rebuilt  Solomon's  Temple  and 
Palace,  the  great  walls  which  Titus  had 
thrown  down,  the  Hall  of  the  Sanhe 
drim  and  the  Palaces  of  the  Princes  of 
Israel.  What  with  his  studies  and  im 
agination,  he  erected  within  himself  a 
more  glorious  city  than  ever  Solomon  had 
known.  His  intimate  friends  noticed  the 


THE    END    of   the    DREAM 


change  in  him,  and  a  few  shook  their 
heads  and  said,  "  Joshua  is  becoming  the 
victim  of  his  own  dreams/'  Little  boys 
in  the  street  made  fun  of  him,  but  not 
often.  Young  David,  who  was  growing 
up  into  a  stalwart,  muscular  youth,  soon 
silenced  them  according  to  the  simple 
code  of  East  Side  youths.  He  tried  the 
best  he  could  to  turn  his  father's  thoughts 
away  from  Zion,  but  soon  perceived  this 
to  be  impossible.  Once  or  twice  he  vent 
ured  to  assert  that  the  Jerusalem  of  to 
day  was  a  miserable,  misgoverned,  Turkish 
city,  with  no  charm  save  that  of  historical 
association  and  memory,  but,  to  his  pain 
and  surprise,  his  father  broke  into  tears, 
and  then,  rising  angrily  from  the  chair, 
pointed  his  finger  at  David,  exclaiming  : 

"  My  son ;  my  son ;  your  mind  has 
been  poisoned  by  our  renegade  people. 
They  invent  these  foolish  tales  to  cover 
up  their  own  sinfulness,  and  to  shield 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


their  cowardice  and  treachery.  Zion  has 
not  died.  Zion  will  never  die,  so  long 
as  there  is  a  true  Jewish  heart.  Zion  gave 
the  world  all  its  life  and  beauty,  and  to 
day  its  radiance  is  as  bright  as  when  Sol 
omon  sat  upon  his  throne  of  gold,  or  its 
mighty  armies  marched  forth  conquering 
every  land.  The  King  still  sits  there  up 
on  his  throne,  and  the  generals  still  com 
mand  their  victorious  armies,  but  the  silly 
world  and  our  wicked  people  close  their 
eyes  and  refuse  to  see  them  in  all  their 
splendor,  but  I  see  them,  my  son,  night 
after  night,  when  this  good  city  is  asleep. 
My  soul  leaves  the  body  and  flies  across 
the  wide  seas  to  the  Holy  Land  and  vis 
its  the  cave  of  Abraham  and  the  Temple- 
stones  on  Mount  Horeb,  the  olive  groves 
where  the  people  cut  the  great  timbers 
which  still  form  the  ceiling  in  the  Tem 
ple,  and  which  are  as  bright  with  pure 
gold  as  when  the  artificers  of  Hiram, 


THE    END    of   the    DREAM 


King  of  Tyre,  presented  them  to  his 
lord  and  master,  Solomon.  If  we  are 
but  true  to  our  faith,  we  will  go  there 
some  day,  David,  my  son,  and  be  wel 
comed  back  to  our  own.  I  shall  serve 
in  the  Temple ;  but  you,  my  beloved 
boy,  shall  be  one  of  the  great  doctors 
who  will  teach  our  people,  and  through 
our  people  the  world.  Study  hard,  my 
son,  so  that  you  may  be  worthy  of  your 
high  calling.  Your  glory  is  mine,  and 
your  honors  are  mine.  In  my  old  age 
you  shall  hold  up  my  arms  as  Aaron  held 
up  Moses'.  And  you  shall  be  a  light  in 
Israel  and  a  joy  to  our  king." 

David  listened  to  his  father's  outburst, 
and  with  kindly  boyish  tact  answered : 

"  I'll  study  hard,  father,  and  do  the  best 
I  can." 

And  the  boy  was  true  to  his  word. 
He  went  through  the  public  schools  at 
the  head  of  his  classes,  and  then,  entering 

[  13 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


the  City  College,  soon  made  himself  a 
name  as  a  brilliant  and  thorough  scholar. 
He  had  long  passed  his  father  in  culture 
and  knowledge.  Even  in  Hebrew  and 
the  Talmud  his  trained  memory  and 
studious  habits  had  enabled  him  to  ob 
tain  a  comprehension  of  the  subjects  that 
Joshua,  brought  up  in  the  cruel  atmos 
phere  of  Little  Wallachia,  had  never  pos 
sessed.  He  was  in  the  junior  year  of 
the  college,  when  one  evening,  returning 
home,  he  found  his  father  strangely  happy. 
They  ate  their  little  meal  together,  and 
then  his  father,  rising  from  the  table, 
walked  around  to  where  the  boy  sat,  em 
braced  him  and  kissed  him  on  the  fore 
head. 

"  It  is  all  done,  David.  To-morrow 
we  start  for  Zion.  Here  are  the  tickets 
for  you  and  me,  and  here  is  the  banker's 
draft,  which  will  buy  us  a  beautiful  home 
not  far  from  the  Temple.  The  ship 

[  1 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


leaves  to-morrow,  and  then  you  and  I 
will  start  to  enter  in  our  possession/' 

David  was  too  surprised  to  make  re 
ply.  He  realized  that  his  father  was  la 
boring  under  a  delusion,  and  yet  his  love 
and  pride  forbade  him  to  make  any  com 
ment. 

He  forced  a  smile  and  said,  as  cheer 
fully  as  he  could : 

"  Yes,  father,  we  will  go  to-morrow 
and  see  the  great  land  which  God  the 
Lord  has  marked  as  His  own." 

That  evening  he  bade  good-by  to  his 
friends,  and  the  next  morning  they  made 
ready  to  start.  Just  after  breakfast  they 
were  astonished  at  receiving  many  calls. 
Somehow  or  other  the  news  had  spread 
abroad,  and  scores  of  neighbors  had  come 
to  wish  them  godspeed.  Neither  David 
nor  Joshua  knew  how  popular  they  had 
become  on  the  East  Side.  The  calls  and 
the  tokens  of  affection  afforded  them  in- 

[  is] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


finite  pleasure.  A  little  girl  brought  a 
bunch  of  roses,  and  said  that  her  mother 
would  like  to  have  them  laid  on  the  city 
gate  of  Jerusalem.  A  gray-haired  wid 
ow  entered  the  room  and,  sobbing,  laid  a 
roll  of  bank-notes  before  Joshua,  begging 
him  to  spend  it  upon  poor  Jews  in  the 
Holy  Land.  One  gruff  neighbor  presented 
them  with  two  steamer-rugs,  and  another 
brought  a  guide-book  with  a  series  of 
admirable  maps.  They  must  have  had 
a  hundred  calls  that  morning,  and  nearly 
every  visitor  left  some  expression  of  re 
gard. 

The  trip  across  the  sea  was  uneventful. 
Joshua  read,  studied,  and  dreamed,  and 
spoke  only  to  David. 

At  last,  they  reached  Jaffa.  David 
was  one  of  the  first  to  see  the  place,  and 
turned  to  tell  his  father.  But  Joshua 
was  invisible.  David  went  down  to  the 
cabin  and  started  back  in  surprise  as  he 

[  ' 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


opened  the  stateroom  door.  He  saw 
Joshua,  but  hardly  recognized  him.  His 
hair  and  beard,  which  were  now  gray  and 
almost  white,  had  been  combed,  oiled,  and 
brushed  until  they  looked  like  those  of  the 
great  patriarchs.  In  place  of  the  clothing 
which  he  had  worn  up  to  that  time,  he 
had  on  a  stately  gaberdine  and  robe  such 
as  belonged  to  the  doctors  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

"  Dress,  my  son,"  said  Joshua,  "  in 
your  best  clothing,  because  you  are  a 
prince  of  the  House  of  Israel,  and  it 
would  be  doing  poor  honor  to  our  king 
if  we  went  ashore  attired  like  common 
people." 

The  boy  complied,  and  put  on  the 
handsome  suit  which  his  father  had  pur 
chased  just  before  their  departure.  He 
now  understood  why  Joshua  had  been  so 
seemingly  extravagant.  Heretofore,  he 
had  wondered  at  the  suit,  which  was  lined 

[  17] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


with  the  richest  silk,  and  with  which 
had  come  an  assortment  of  other  personal 
wear  worthy  of  a  rich  man. 

They  went  ashore,  and  the  father  mani 
fested  a  little  surprise  and  displeasure  at 
the  sight  of  some  Turkish  soldiers.  The 
red  fezzes  and  flags  grated  upon  him,  and 
the  cheap  commercial  activity  of  the 
place,  the  squalor,  and  dirt,  poverty  and 
degradation,  which  were  visible  every 
where,  were  too  much  for  the  man  of 
dreams.  He  was  silent  for  ten  minutes, 
and  then  his  face  brightened  up  as  he 
turned  to  David,  and  said  : 

"  You  must  not  mind  this,  my  son  ; 
Joppa  "  (and  from  now  on  he  used  the  old 
name  for  the  place)  "  belongs  to  our  king 
by  the  right  of  conquest,  but  in  his  kind 
ness  he  lets  these  poor  wretches  manage 
it  themselves.  He  is  ready  to  rule  it 
when  they  say  the  word,  but  he  is  wait 
ing  for  them  to  see  the  folly  of  their  ways 

I  i8  ] 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


and  ask  him  to  direct  them.  He  does 
not  even  send  his  own  guards  down  here, 
but  permits  them  to  use  those  brutal  red- 
capped  soldiers,  who  are  a  disgrace  to  the 
place/'  The  steamer  had  arrived  too  late 
for  the  afternoon  train  which  goes  to  Je 
rusalem,  and  they  stayed  all  night  at  a  ho 
tel.  The  elegance  of  Joshua  and  David 
attracted  attention,  and  numerous  were 
the  whispers  of  the  guests  and  the  attend 
ants.  The  quick  ear  of  David  caught 
many  of  the  utterances,  which  were  in 
English,  German,  French,  and  other 
tongues. 

"  That's  a  rich  Rabbi  taking  a  pupil  to 
the  Holy  Land,"  said  one. 

"That's  a  crazy  Zionist,"  quoth 
another. 

"  They  are  scholars  sent  out  by  the 
American  Exploration  Fund,"  suggested 
a  third. 

"They  are  German    agents  going  out 

[  19  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


to  locate  new  concessions/'  whispered  a 
fourth. 

The  next  morning  they  were  up  bright 
and  early  and  took  the  first  train  to  Je 
rusalem.  When  they  alighted  from  the 
carriage  the  old  man's  face  lighted  up 
with  a  strange  splendor. 

"  We  are  home,  David.  This  is  the 
city  of  our  king.  Have  you  ever  dreamed 
of  anything  so  beautiful.  Look  at  the 
palace  yonder/'  and  he  pointed  to  a 
huge  building  reeking  with  the  dirt  of* 
centuries.  "  That  belongs  to  one  of  the 
princes  of  Israel.  You  shall  have  a  bet 
ter  one,  with  a  great  audience-chamber 
and  a  vast  library,  and  I  shall  sit  with 
crowds  at  your  feet  and  listen  to  your 
wisdom.  There/'  pointing  to  a  cheap 
hotel,  "  is  the  hall  of  a  great  rabbi. 
When  we  have  been  presented,  we  will 
call  upon  him.  Those  people  coming 
and  going  are  only  his  servants.  When 
[  ^o] 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


you  have  your  hall,  you  shall  have  five 
times  as  many  servitors.  Let  us  go  to 
the  Temple." 

He  seized  the  boy's  hand  and  walked 
swiftly  along  the  first  street.  They  were 
suddenly  halted  by  a  small  procession  of 
Greek  monks  carrying  a  crucifix  and 
bawling  discordantly. 

The  old  man's  grasp  tightened  and  he 
whispered  to  David  : 

"  Those  are  envoys  bringing  tribute  to 
our  king.  All  day  and  night  they  come 
from  every  country  of  the  world/'  Then 
he  added,  as  a  detachment  of  Turkish  sol 
diers  marched  passed  to  prevent  the  Greek 
monks  fighting  with  their  colleagues : 

"  Those  are  the  guards  they  bring  with 
them.  Notice  how  unhappy  they  look 
at  the  idea  of  being  compelled  to  come 
all  the  way  here  to  render  homage  to 
our  king." 

When  the  crowd  passed  they  resumed 

[    21     ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


their  walk.  They  went  up  one  street 
and  down  another.  Sometimes  they  ap 
parently  doubled  upon  their  track  and 
passed  the  same  houses  two  and  three 
times.  At  odd  intervals  Joshua  would 
stop  and  explain  to  David  the  nature  and 
history  of  some  building  in  front  of  them. 
As  the  day  wore  on,  his  imagination  grew 
more  intense  and  terrible.  Turkish  wom 
en  in  their  veils  were  transformed  by 
him  into  the  lovely  daughters  of  Israel  ; 
business  men  into  generals  and  statesmen  ; 
camel-drivers  wore  crowns,  and  muleteers 
were  bright  with  gems  and  gold.  It 
must  have  been  four  in  the  afternoon 
when  they  reached  the  open  place  where 
stands  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  beneath 
which  are  the  giant  rocks  which  Solo 
mon  used  in  building  his  walls.  Some 
drowsy  janizaries  guarded  the  door,  but 
an  amiable  gentleman  who  seemed  to 
speak  every  language,  though  outrageous- 

[22] 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


ly,  accosted  them,  and,  for  a  moneyed  con 
sideration,  led  them  through  the  guards 
and  into  the  sacred  enclosure. 

David  felt  a  chill  go  over  him  as  they 
proceeded  within  the  building.  There 
were  a  myriad  little  doors,  graceful  and 
artistic  as  are  all  Saracen  constructions, 
but  so  grimed  and  decayed  that  they 
seemed  like  the  corpse  of  a  building  which 
had  been  dead  a  thousand  years.  They 
entered  a  court  where  the  grass  and  weeds 
were  pushing  aside  the  stones  of  the  pave 
ment  and  converting  the  place  into  a 
strange  and  mournful  wilderness.  In  the 
centre  of  the  enclosure  rose  before  them 
the  exquisite  edifice  which  is  a  wonder 
of  the  world,  a  stone  palace  whose  blue 
tint  makes  it  seem  carved  of  lapis  lazuli. 
From  its  centre  sprang  the  graceful  cylin 
drical  tower  surmounted  by  the  dome 
and  crescent  which  tell  the  story  of  the 
prophet  and  his  dead  legions. 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


"  That  is  the  Temple,  David.  That  is 
where  the  Lord  makes  His  dwelling- 
place.  It  is  not  stone  but  priceless  sap 
phire.  Those  little  dots  of  color  are 
gems ;  the  yellow  is  topaz  ;  the  white, 
diamonds ;  the  green,  emerald  ;  the  black, 
onyx ;  the  scarlet,  ruby  ;  the  brown,  sar 
donyx,  and  the  golden-green,  chryso- 
prase." 

As  they  stood  there  they  were  joined 
by  a  man  of  middle  age,  whose  face  was 
very  kind  and  gentle.  He  had  overheard 
Joshua's  comment  and  had  divined  the 
situation.  He  pointed  out  the  minor 
buildings  in  the  enclosure  and  explained 
them  in  a  way  which  showed  him  to  be 
a  scholar  as  well  as  a  pleasant  companion. 
Joshua  listened  in  turn,  and  David  forgot 
the  chill  of  the  atmosphere  in  the  strang 
er's  conversation. 

Suddenly  came  the  call  of  the  Muezzin, 
and  all  the  soldiers  and  attendants  in  the 


THE    END    of   the    DREAM 


great  enclosure  fell  upon  their  knees  in 
prayer.  The  stranger  dropped  likewise, 
as  did  David,  but  Joshua  remained  stand 
ing. 

"  Kneel  down,  for  Heaven's  sake,"  said 
the  stranger. 

"  I  shall  not  kneel,"  answered  Joshua, 
"  until  I  am  in  the  presence  of  my 
king." 

The  stranger  seized  him  and  pulled 
him  down. 

"  Kneel  down,  I  say.  You  are  a  Jew 
like  myself,  and  our  lives  will  be  taken 
unless  we  kneel." 

"  I  shall  appeal  to  the  king,"  answered 
Joshua. 

In  his  excitement  the  stranger  forgot 
his  tact. 

"  King  ?  there  is  no  king,  but  the  ac 
cursed  Sultan.  We  are  strangers  in  our 
own  city.  We  are  interlopers  where  Sol 
omon  once  sat,  and  where  our  generals 

[  25] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


once  held  sway.  We  are  fugitives  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  and  our  only  king 
dom  is  in  our  own  hearts,  and  in  the 
years  to  be." 

Joshua  listened,  dazed,  and  then  turned 
from  the  stranger  and  looked  at  his  son. 
Through  the  glamour  of  his  dreams,  he 
saw  the  truth  written  upon  his  boy's  face. 
Again  he  turned  and  gazed  upon  the 
Mosque,  upon  the  red-fezzed  men,  upon 
the  decaying  buildings,  and  the  dilapi 
dated  splendors  of  the  Saracen  past.  The 
evening  prayer  was  over  and  the  Mos 
lems  had  resumed  their  former  attitudes. 
Suddenly  Joshua  sprang  to  his  feet,  threw 
his  hands  high  in  air,  and,  pointing  to 
one  of  the  doors  of  the  Mosque,  called  out : 

"  Rise,  David  ;  rise,  my  friend,  for  here 
comes  our  king  and  all  the  princes  of 
Israel." 

A  strain  of  martial  melody  floated  to 
them  from  the  distance. 


THE    END    of    the    DREAM 


"  Do  you  hear  the  music,  my  son  ? 
That  is  the  song  which  David  wrote,  and 
which  the  harps  and  cymbals  played  be 
fore  Solomon.  Kneel  again,  my  son,  for 
now  the  king  has  come." 

He  was  about  to  kneel,  when  suddenly 
a  tremor  ran  through  him,  and  he  fell 
toward  the  ground. 

David  and  the  stranger  caught  him  ere 
he  touched  the  earth,  and  laid  him  gently 
down. 

Joshua  had  been  presented  to  the 
king. 


r     r 

It 


The  Romance  of  a  blinder 

NORFOLK  STREET  is  not  an 
attractive  thoroughfare.  Every 
where  there  is  a  distinct  odor 
of  life  and  death.  The  one  pertains  to 
the  victims  of  poverty  and  ignorance,  and 
the  other  to  the  debris  which  is  allowed 
by  a  not  over-well  governed  city  to  ac 
cumulate  in  the  gutters,  alleyways,  and 
cellars  of  the  tenement-houses.  The 
latter  add  a  somewhat  picturesque  charm 
to  an  otherwise  ugly  neighborhood. 
Some  are  old-fashioned,  handsome,  three- 
story  mansions,  which,  despite  cracked 
windows,  filthy  doors  and  indescribable 
coatings  of  grime,  still  preserve  faint  traces 
of  their  former  grandeur.  Beside  them 
are  modern  five-story  "  dumb-bells," 
gaudy  with  cheap  brick  trimmings,  and 


THE    ROMANCE    of   a    MINDER 

with  the  flower-pots  and  colored  gar 
ments  that  show  themselves  in  every 
window.  Nearly  every  house  has  a  store 
on  the  ground  floor,  and  each  is  over 
crowded  with  inmates.  They  swarm 
everywhere,  dirty-faced  children,  slat 
ternly  women  and  poorly  dressed  men. 
Nearly  all  look  hungry,  cold,  despondent 
and  unhappy.  Upon  the  faces  of  the 
older  is  the  furtive  look  which  goes  with 
the  workers  of  the  sweat-shops.  Only 
the  little  children  show  the  happy  ex 
pression  which  ought  to  belong  to  all  the 
ages  of  humanity. 

On  the  third  floor  of  one  of  these  tene 
ments,  not  far  from  Grand  Street,  lived 
Simon  Lublin,  a  Polak  of  about  thirty. 
He  was  what  is  known  as  a  minder,  that 
is  to  say,  a  person  learned  in  the  law  and 
the  Hebrew  language,  who  teaches  little 
children,  receiving  them  in  the  morning 
and  minding  them  all  day,  until  their 

[29  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


parents  call  for  them  after  working-hours, 
and  take  them  home.  It  was  a  monoto 
nous  and  hard  life,  but  it  pleased  Simon, 
who,  beneath  his  calm  and  sorrowful  face, 
had  a  very  warm  heart.  He  was  loved 
by  the  little  folks,  who  viewed  him  more 
as  an  adjunct  father  or  assistant  mother 
than  as  a  teacher.  Their  love  was  justi 
fied.  Where  ordinary  minders  perform 
lip-service  to  their  little  charges,  Simon 
went  to  the  opposite  extreme  in  devotion 
to  his  scholars.  He  always  gave  them 
more  food  in  the  middle  of  the  day 
than  they  were  entitled  to  under  the 
Minder's  contract,  and  oftentimes  when 
the  weather  was  clear  and  beautiful,  he 
would  take  them  on  little  rambles  to  stores 
and  other  places  where  he  was  welcome. 
These  trips  were  a  fairyland  to  the 
children,  who  never  tired  of  describing 
and  re-describing  them  after  nightfall  to 
their  parents.  Simon  was  one  of  those 


THE    ROMANCE    of    a    MINDER 

curious  types  which  are  exceedingly  rare 
in  our  Western  race,  but  common  in  the 
territory  which  was  once  the  mighty 
kingdom  of  Poland.  He  was  a  scholar, 
and  a  dreamer.  He  had  but  little  sym 
pathy  with  the  world,  for  what  he  knew 
of  it  had  been  cruel  and  repugnant  from 
his  earliest  childhood.  He  loved  New 
York  in  a  dull  way,  because  here  he  en 
joyed  a  strange  liberty,  and  a  freedom 
from  persecution  which  he  had  never 
known  at  home.  There  were  no  anti- 
Semite  brawls.  There  were  no  savage 
police,  and  no  grasping  tax-gatherers. 
So  far  as  he  was  concerned,  there  was  no 
government,  because  to  him  government 
meant  perpetual  interference  with  the 
rights  of  the  individual.  The  police  and 
the  firemen  were  to  him  visitors  from  an 
unknown  world.  The  former  carried 
no  swords,  nor  bayonets,  while  the  latter 
were  like  the  soldiers  of  some  king  who 

[  3'  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


was  forever  at  war  with  the  armies  of  the 
King  of  Fire.  Time  and  again,  he  and 
his  little  folks  had  craned  their  necks  out 
of  the  windows,  watching  the  steam  fire- 
engines  go  dashing  past,  calling  up  in  his 
imagination  the  fiery  chariots  in  which 
patriarchs  and  prophets  were  once  sup 
posed  to  ride. 

The  children  were  three  -  fourths  of 
Simon's  life ;  the  other  fourth  was  an 
extraordinary  friend,  Mr.  Tom  Braden, 
who  was  also  his  boarder.  Mr.  Braden 
was  a  reporter  and  literary  man ;  that  is 
to  say,  he  pursued  professional  pursuits 
with  the  pen,  when  not  engaged  in  either 
getting  intoxicated,  or  recovering  from 
intoxication. 

He  had  drifted  down  into  the  East 
Side  when  preparing  a  series  of  articles 
on  Immigrants,  and  had  engaged  a  room 
from  Lublin  at  the  rent  of  $1.50  per 
week.  The  articles  were  duly  written, 

[  3*] 


THE    ROMANCE    of   a    MINDER 

sold,  and  paid  for,  and  the  proceeds  spent 
with  cheerful  alacrity  in  the  cafes  of 
Newspaper  Row.  About  this  time,  Mr. 
Braden  discovered  that  by  living  in  a 
room  in  Norfolk  Street  at  $1.50,  he  had 
a  surplus  of  $  3. 50  over  a  room  in  Thirty- 
fourth  Street,  his  former  home  at  $5  a 
week,  and  that  this  surplus  enabled  him 
to  prolong  his  daily  carouses.  So  he  re 
mained  on  the  East  Side. 

This  was  not  the  only  motive.  He  had 
become  attached  to  his  landlord,  and  a 
warm  friendship  had  sprung  up  between 
them.  Each  was  the  victim  of  cruel  and 
destructive  forces.  Braden's  were  of  his 
own  creation ;  Lublin's  were  those  of 
his  home  associations  and  of  centuries  of 
oppression.  One  summer  when  Simon 
fell  sick,  Tom  nursed  him  and  stayed 
sober  a  fortnight.  After  that  Simon  in 
variably  brought  his  boarder  a  bowl  of 
hot  Russian  tea  every  morning. 

[  33  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


Three  nights  a  week,  Braden  taught 
his  landlord  English,  and  in  return  was 
instructed  in  Polish. 

This  mutual  instruction  was  of  benefit 
to  both  in  many  ways.  It  turned  Lublin's 
literary  taste  into  new  channels,  and,  be 
sides  giving  Braden  a  glimpse  into  Polish 
and  Russian  literature,  it  increased  the 
number  of  his  hours  of  sobriety.  After 
several  months  had  passed,  Tom  became 
interested  one  evening  in  a  short  story 
which  was  being  used  as  the  night's  exer 
cise.  When  the  lesson  was  over,  he  wrote 
the  story  out,  giving  it  a  quaint  touch  of 
humor  which  the  original  did  not  possess. 

The  next  day  he  submitted  the  manu 
script  to  the  editor  of  a  weekly.  The 
latter  happened,  for  a  wonder,  to  be  not 
overbusy  and,  telling  Braden  to  sit  down, 
read  the  proffered  sketch.  To  Tom's  sur 
prise  he  became  interested  and  read  the 
matter  to  the  end. 

[  34] 


THE    ROMANCE    of   a    MINDER 

"  That's  good  stuff,  Braden.  Foreign, 
isn't  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  from  the  Polish." 

"  I  thought  I  recognized  an  element 
of  Sienkiewicz  about  it,  but  it  contains 
humor  which  that  author  does  not  pos 
sess.  Who  wrote  it  ?  " 

Braden  was  nonplussed  for  a  second, 
and  then  a  queer  thought  entered  his 
head  which  inspired  him  to  answer, 
"  Simon  Lublin/' 

"  If  you  run  across  any  more  of  his 
work  as  good  as  this,  bring  it  here  first. 
Pll  pay  double  rates  for  it.  There's  an 
order  on  the  cashier." 

Braden  received  the  check  in  a  dazed 
way,  cashed  it,  bought  a  couple  of  drinks, 
and  then,  moved  by  some  inexplicable 
impulse,  went  to  Norfolk  Street  instead  of 
his  favorite  rendezvous  on  Park  Row. 

He  stopped  on  Grand  Street,  bought  a 
lot  of  cake  and  fruit,  and,  with  his  pur- 

[  35] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


chases  in  his  arms,  reached  the  tenement 
and  entered  Lublin's  room.  There  sat  the 
teacher  wearing  the  little  silk  skull-cap, 
which  is  the  badge  of  the  Polak  peda 
gogue,  and  in  front  of  him  were  a  score 
of  urchins  at  their  studies.  They  turned 
as  the  door  opened  and  smiled,  for  Tom 
was  a  good-hearted  man  who  always  was 
liked  by  little  folks.  Lublin  was  startled, 
as  it  was  the  first  time  Tom  had  ever  en 
tered  the  room  at  that  time  of  the  day. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  Nothing  wrong, 
I  hope  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit.  Only  good  news.  I've 
just  sold  that  story  you  read  me  last  night 
for  $40,  and  here  is  your  half,"  and  lay 
ing  down  his  bundles,  he  counted  out 
and  handed  over  the  money  to  the 
teacher. 

The  pale  face  of  the  teacher  flushed 
up  with  pleasure,  and  then  became  nat 
ural  again  as  he  answered,  "  Thank  you, 

[36] 


THE    ROMANCE    of   a    MINDER 

I  cannot  take  it.  I  did  nothing  at  all. 
You  earned  it,  and  it  is  all  yours." 

"  Not  I.  You  taught  me  ;  you  found 
the  story  and  translated  it,  and  I  merely 
wrote  it  down,  and  put  on  a  few  flour 
ishes.  Put  it  in  your  pocket,  and  divide 
these  things  amongst  the  youngsters." 

Lublin  complied  amid  a  murmur  of 
delight  from  the  urchins,  which  grew  into 
a  roar  when  the  cakes  and  fruit  were 
handed  out  among  them.  There  was 
little  or  no  study  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Thus  began  an  odd  literary  partner 
ship.  Simon  translated,  and  Tom  re 
wrote,  embellished,  and  sold.  Most  of 
the  stories  were  ascribed  to  the  real  au 
thors,  but  to  keep  up  the  original  decep 
tion,  Braden  was  obliged  every  now  and 
then  to  charge  some  bright  bit  of  litera 
ture  to  the  teacher. 

In  this  way  the  teacher  unconsciously 
became  known  to  the  editorial  and  read- 

[  37] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


ing  worlds.  Several  publishers  made  in 
quiries  as  to  the  new  star,  but  as  there 
were  a  dozen  Lublins  in  Europe,  who 
were  engaged  in  journalism,  their  in 
quiries,  though  revealing  that  the  name 
was  not  assumed,  failed  to  secure  any 
identification.  The  work  was  entitled  to 
the  credit  it  gained.  Lublin  made  wise 
selections,  and,  in  translating,  added  un 
consciously  the  poetry  and  delicacy  of 
his  nature,  while  the  Bohemian  put  in 
the  fun  and  sparkle  so  dear  to  the  Amer 
ican  heart.  Success  did  not  change  the 
conduct  of  the  pair.  Tom  drank,  per 
haps,  a  little  less,  but  treated  a  good  deal 
more.  Simon  opened  a  bank  account, 
and  from  week  to  week  added  to  his 
capital. 

The  summer  of  the  second  year  arrived. 
One  warm  evening,  when  the  lesson  was 
over,  Lublin  began  to  read,  and  Braden 
to  prepare  manuscript.  The  house  was 

[  38  ] 


THE    ROMANCE    of    a    MINDER 

quiet,  and  the  street  outside  half  deserted. 
Through  the  open  window,  which  opened 
into  what  landlords  facetiously  call  a 
light-shaft,  came  the  voices  of  two  men 
quarrelling.  It  was  in  a  strange  language, 
no  odd  event  in  the  tenement-house.  Had 
the  tone  been  ordinary,  Tom  would  not 
have  noticed  it.  But  the  rage  which 
seemed  to  permeate  the  words  disturbed 
him,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  pause,  in 
which  he  stopped  writing,  he  looked  up 
from  the  paper  with  a  quick  toss  of  the 
head.  Simon  had  stopped  reading,  and, 
with  a  strange  expression  of  surprise  and 
horror  on  his  face,  was  listening  to  the 
conversation.  He  saw  that  his  friend  was 
about  to  speak,  and  laid  a  warning  ringer 
across  his  lips.  Tom  realized  that  some 
thing  of  deep  interest  was  going  on,  and 
sat  motionless.  The  heated  conversation 
began  to  cool  down  until  the  words  were 
scarcely  audible.  Simon  crept  noiselessly 

[  39  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


to  the  light  shaft  and  leaned  out  of  the 
narrow  window  so  as  to  catch  the  slight 
est  sound.  Five  minutes  passed,  ten, 
fifteen,  and  then  the  unseen  speakers 
seemed  to  end  their  talk. 

Lublin  closed  the  window  very  care 
fully  so  as  to  make  no  noise,  and  then 
moved  on  tip-toe  to  Tom.  Leaning 
over  the  latter,  he  whispered,  "  They  are 
human  fiends.  They  own  the  clothing 
store  on  the  ground  floor,  and  are  going 
to  set  fire  to  it  some  night  next  week, 
in  order  to  defraud  the  insurance  com 
pany.  We  must  call  the  police  and  have 
them  arrested/' 

"  That  would  be  of  no  use.  We  have 
no  evidence  but  what  we  have  heard,  and 
we  cannot  identify  the  speakers.  Let's 
wait.  To-morrow  I'll  see  the  President 
of  the  Vesuvius  Insurance  Company,  and 
see  what  can  be  done.  I'd  like  to  catch 
the  gang.  It  would  make  a  great  story, 

[  40  ] 


THE    ROMANCE    of   a    MINDER 

and  I  could  sell  it  to  a  morning  paper 
for  two  or  three  hundred  dollars/' 

The  next  morning  he  called  upon  the 
official  and  told  the  story  of  the  previous 
evening.  The  President  listened  very  in 
tently. 

"  I  thank  you  for  calling.  You  have 
put  us  on  the  trail  of  a  gang  of  firebugs 
who  have  been  setting  stores  on  fire  and 
defrauding  the  companies  for  the  past 
eighteen  months.  What  is  the  name  of 
your  friend  ? " 

"  Simon  Lublin." 

"  Lublin  ?  Yes,  I  remember  it  now. 
That's  the  Polish  writer?" 

"  The  same,"  answered  Braden. 

"  If  you  will  kindly  wait,  I'll  send  for 
our  detective." 

The  officer  soon  appeared,  and  was  in 
troduced  to  Tom,  who,  under  skilful 
questioning,  gave  a  more  complete  story 
than  he  had  to  the  President.  When  he 

[41  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


closed,  he  said,  "  I  suppose  there  is  no 
hurry.  The  men  said  they  would  bring 
the  job  off  next  week/* 

"  All  the  more  reason  for  suspecting 
them  this  week,"  retorted  the  detective, 
"  those  firebugs  are  so  dishonest  that  they 
deceive  one  another  and  even  themselves. 
I  shall  put  them  under  surveillance  with 
in  another  hour/' 

The  prediction  was  verified.  The  fire 
broke  out  three  days  afterward  just  be 
fore  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Owing 
to  the  precautions  taken,  no  innocent 
lives  were  lost,  as  had  occurred  in  several 
other  cases,  and  no  great  damage  was 
done.  The  flames  were  confined  to  the 
store,  where,  through  the  lavish  use  of 
kerosene  by  the  incendiaries,  they  gained 
enough  strength  to  give  a  good  battle  to 
the  firemen  for  a  half  hour.  The  fire-alarm 
was  a  signal  to  the  police,  who  promptly 
arrested  the  entire  gang  of  firebugs. 

[  42  ] 


THE    ROMANCE    of   a    MINDER 

Tom's  article,  giving  the  history  of  the 
case,  appeared  the  next  morning  in  a 
leading  paper,  and  on  pay-day  he  offered 
the  usual  one-half  to  Lublin.  This  time 
the  latter  refused  the  money  point-blank 
— whereupon  Tom,  in  high  dudgeon, 
departed  for  Newspaper  Row,  where  he 
signalized  himself  by  extending  bibulous 
hospitality,  to  the  utter  discomfiture  of 
every  reporter  who  entered  the  cafe. 

Two  weeks  afterward  a  notice  appeared 
in  the  daily  press.  "  Simon  Lublin,  the 
author  and  scholar,  has  been  appointed  to 
the  chair  of  Polish  and  Russian  literature 
in  St.  Jerome's  College.  The  chair  is 
new,  having  been  founded  a  week  ago 
by  Edward  Thornton,  President  of  the 
Vesuvius  Insurance  Company  of  this  city." 


[43] 


WWW 

m 


Revenge  is 


I 


day  was  done,  and  the  great 
army  of  the  business  world  was 
moving  in  solid  streams  up 
Broadway  and  the  Bowery,  toward  its 
homes,  far  and  near.  The  law  office  of 
Spencer  &  Spencer  was  at  last  quiet. 
The  clerks  had  gone  for  the  day,  and  the 
two  partners  sat  in  the  library,  their  feet 
upon  the  table,  and  their  lips  busy  with 
cigars  and  conversation. 

"  We  have  had  a  good  day,  John. 
You  won  that  case  very  nicely,  and  got 
a  much  larger  verdict  than  I  expected. 
At  my  end  of  the  line,  I  settled  that 
mortgage,  and  received  $550,  eighty 
more  than  we  figured  upon." 

The  brother  blew  a  ring  of  smoke  from 
his  mouth  as  he  replied : 
[44  ] 


REVENGE    is    MINE 


"  Things  arc  booming,  Ned,  and  I 
think  we  are  justified  in  a  special  dinner 
this  evening,  followed  by  a  night  at  the 
opera.  What's  on  hand  to-morrow  ? " 

"  I've  got  that  Rubenstein  case  on  trial 
in  the  General  Sessions." 

"  Will  you  get  the  fellow  off?" 

"So  far  as  I  can  see,  Til  acquit  him 
with  flying  colors.  The  fellow  is  as 
guilty  as  Hades,  but  he  is  such  a  clever 
scalawag,  that  I  question  if  he  ever  com 
mits  a  crime  without  first  preparing  a 
perfect  defence." 

"That's  a  business-like  criminal.  It  is 
lucky  that  there  are  not  many  like  him." 

"Yes;  he  is  an  exception  to  the  rule. 
This  is  the  fifth  time  I  shall  have  de 
fended  him,  and  it  looks  as  if  it  would 
be  like  the  other  four.  In  every  one  he 
was  guilty,  and  in  each  instance,  I  won 
through  his  own  strategy.  It  was  a  good 
thing  for  me,  as  the  Court  and  the  Bar 

[45  3 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


gave  me  all  the  credit,  whereas  I  did  not 
deserve  one  bit  of  it." 

"  That  is  interesting.  What  is  the  case 
to-morrow  ? " 

"  It  is  a  $5,000  robbery  at  a  fashionable 
boarding-house.  He  went  there  in  dis 
guise  as  a  literary  man,  picking  out  the 
hour  when  there  was  no  one  but  the 
landlady  around.  He  impressed  her  fa 
vorably,  engaged  a  room,  and,  before  even 
ing,  had  gone  through  the  bureaus  and 
trunks  of  four  wealthy  boarders,  and  se 
cured  enough  money  and  jewelry  to  keep 
a  family  for  a  year." 

"  Does  the  landlady  recognize  him  ? " 

"  Only  too  well." 

"  I  am  blessed  then  if  I  see  how  you 
can  get  him  off." 

"  That  shows  that  you  are  not  up  in 
criminal  law,  John.  You  see  there  is 
only  one  witness  against  him.  He  was 
very  careful  to  avoid  everyone  else  in  the 

[  46  ] ' 


REVENGE    is    MINE 


house.  This  is  the  landlady,  who  is  near 
sighted,  nervous,  and  irritable.  On  cross- 
examination  I'll  confuse  her,  and  she  will 
break  down.  To-morrow  in  court  he 
will  do  as  he  has  always  done  before, 
and  make  up  as  carefully  as  an  actor  does 
on  the  stage.  He  will  look  like  a  cheap 
and  vulgar  bartender.  He  will  have  two 
or  three  boon  companions  in  court,  who 
look  like  him,  and  who  will  be  made 
up  in  the  same  way,  so  that  when  I 
call  the  attention  of  the  jury  to  the 
accidental  resemblance  between  the  pris 
oner  and  these  strangers,  and  then  dilate 
on  the  cruelty  of  mistaken  identity,  I 
would  win  the  case  anyhow.  But,  in  ad 
dition,  I  have  a  beautiful  alibi.  For  a 
month  the  fellow  has  been  engaged  to  a 
very  pretty  girl  living  in  the  same  neigh 
borhood  as  the  landlady,  and  both  the 
girl  and  the  mother,  in  the  excitement  of 
the  occasion,  are  certain  that  he  was  at 

[47] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


the  house  when  the  landlady  swears  the 
robbery  was  committed.  To  make  things 
doubly  sure,  a  good  old  clergyman,  who 
looks  as  patriarchal  as  Abraham,  will  tes 
tify  to  the  same  facts.  Now,  as  a  matter 
of  truth,  the  clergyman  has  two  days  con 
fused,  while  the  two  women  are  mistaken 
as  to  the  hours.  But,  in  spite  of  this, 
they  will  go  on  the  stand  to-morrow,  and 
make  first-class  witnesses.  You  can  see 
the  force  of  the  situation.  It  will  leak 
out  that  this  beautiful  young  girl  loves 
the  prisoner.  She  will  break  down  upon 
the  witness-stand  ;  the  mother  will  weep 
in  sympathy ;  the  clergyman  will  grow 
indignant  at  the  luckless  boarding-house 
keeper,  and  the  jury  will  believe  that  it  is 
a  case  of  pure  malice.  It  is  a  mad  world, 
my  masters,  and  none  know  its  madness 
more  than  we  lawyers." 

"  That  is  true,  Ned ;  but  sometimes  I 
fancy  that  in  our  professional  relations  we 

[48  ] 


REVENGE    is    MINE 


do  as  much  harm  as  good.  Here  we, 
through  our  education  and  brains,  are 
keeping  this  scoundrel  out  of  Sing  Sing, 
and  allowing  him  to  prey  upon  the  com 
munity.  It  makes  me  sort  of  sickish  when 
I  think  of  the  number  of  criminals  we 
have  defended  and  kept  out  of  the 
clutches  of  the  law." 

"  No  sentiment,  old  boy ;  business  is 
business.  The  criminal  eats  society,  and 
we  eat  the  criminal.  Where  would  all 
the  noble  criminal  lawyers  be,  if  it  were 
not  for  the  criminals  ?  " 

The  conversation  might  have  gone  in 
to  a  discussion  of  professional  ethics, 
when  it  was  interrupted  by  a  rapping  on 
the  outer  door.  John  rose  and  opened 
it,  admitting  a  woman  of  about  twenty- 
eight  or  thirty. 

"  Mr.  Spencer  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  That  is  the  name  of  both  of  us, 
Madam.  Take  a  chair/' 

[  49] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


"  I  want  the  one  who  is  defending 
Mr.  Rubenstein." 

Edward,  the  Senior,  bowed  and  said, 
"  I  have  that  honor  ;  what  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

"  I  am  very  much  interested  in  the 
case,  Mr.  Spencer,  and  I  came  to  see  you 
about  it.  I  am  a  relative  of  Rubinstein, 
and  he  has  given  us  considerable  trouble 
through  the  life  he  has  led  for  the  past 
twelve  years.  His  mother  died  from  a 
broken  heart ;  he  ruined  his  father,  and 
he  drove  his  wife  to  the  streets  to  obtain 
her  living  the  best  she  could.  I  don't 
say  this  to  indicate  that  there  is  any 
wrath  in  those  who  love  him.  No  mat 
ter  how  much  we  may  feel  in  regard  to 
his  conduct,  we  do  not  want  him  to 
suffer  the  deepest  disgrace  of  all  and  go 
to  States-Prison.  This  is  why,  whenever 
he  has  been  in  trouble,  we  have  raised 
the  money  for  his  defence.  It  may  be 

[50] 


REVENGE    is    MINE 


that  you  have  given  him  credit  for  it,  but 
in  every  case  the  money  was  raised  for 
him  by  others." 

A  new  light  came  into  the  lawyer's 
mind,  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  When  Rubenstein  was  arrested  this 
last  time,  he  retained  you,  but  had  no 
money.  The  next  day  a  gray-bearded 
man  brought  you  $100  as  a  retaining- 
fee,  did  he  not?" 

"  That  is  correct,  Madam,"  Mr.  Spen 
cer  replied. 

"  Last  week  the  same  man  brought 
you  a  trial  fee  of  $200." 

The  lawyer  smiled.  "  My  dear  woman, 
you  know  the  secrets  of  our  office  as  well 
as  we  do." 

A  strange  look  came  over  the  woman's 
face  which  puzzled  the  two  lawyers,  al 
though  they  were  skilful  physiognomists. 

"  Sometimes  we  women  have  to  know 
a  great  deal  more  than  we  like,"  she 

[  51  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


answered,  "  but  will  you  acquit  him  to 
morrow  ? " 

"  I  am  not  sure  about  that,  Madam. 
A  petit  jury  and  a  nominating  convention 
are  two  of  the  mysteries  which  no  man 
can  solve,  but  I  believe  that  in  every 
probability  I  shall  secure  his  acquittal." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  the  old  defence  of  the 
well-conceived  alibi." 

The  lawyer  bowed  and  said,  "  You 
seem  very  well  posted." 

"  I  hear  too,  Sir,  that  it  is  a  different 
one  from  those  he  has  employed  before, 
and  that  this  time  he  is  to  use  a  pretty 
girl,  to  whom  he  is  engaged,  and  his  pro 
spective  mother-in-law,  and  also  a  super 
annuated  dotard  of  a  minister  as  his  wit 
nesses.  Am  I  correct?" 

The  two  brothers  laughed  lightly,  and 
the  elder  responded.  "  Absolutely  cor 
rect,  Madam.  Is  this  a  good  alibi,  do 
you  think  ?" 

[52] 


REVENGE    is    MINE 


"  I  think  it  is  the  best  possible.  Sup 
posing,  Mr.  Spencer,  the  District  Attor 
ney  should  discover  the  goods,  or  should 
get  the  pawnbroker  where  the  goods  were 
pawned,  or  should  get  witnesses  as  to  the 
robbery,  would  that  change  the  aspect  of 
the  case  ? " 

"Very  much  so,  Madam.  If  the  Dis 
trict  Attorney  did  those  things,  I  would 
stake  my  professional  reputation  that 
Rubenstein  would  be  convicted  without 
the  jury  leaving  their  seats.  But  there  is 
no  danger  of  it.  The  prisoner  is  a  very 
thoughtful  man,  and,  so  far  as  I  can  see, 
there  is  someone  behind  him  with  even 
a  higher  intelligence,  who  has  defended 
him  in  all  these  matters.  Whether  it  is 
a  confederate  or  not,  I  cannot  say,  but  I 
have  often  marvelled  at  the  skill  with 
which  he  covered  his  tracks,  although  in 
his  conduct  and  conversation  he  is  so 
careless." 

[53] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


The  woman  was  biting  her  finger-nails, 
and  the  lawyer  paused.  There  was  silence 
for  a  minute,  and  then  she  said,  slowly  : 

"  Supposing  this  girl  should  not  testify 
as  you  expect  ?  " 

"  That  is  impossible.  She  is  deeply  in 
love  with  the  man,  and  is  bound  to  save 
him.  Between  ourselves,  I  think  the  fel 
low  is  sincerely  in  love  with  her." 

"  I  do  not  believe,' '  said  the  woman, 
"  that  he  could  be  sincerely  in  love  with 
anybody." 

"  You  may  be  right  in  general,  Madam, 
but  in  this  case  you  are  mistaken.  He 
has  made  her  many  presents,  and  during 
the  past  month  I  have  secured  her  special 
passes,  so  that  she  could  see  him  in  the 
Tombs  at  the  hour  when  the  public  is 
not  admitted." 

"  I  take  it  all  back,  Mr.  Spencer," 
answered  the  woman,  "  I  have  been  at 
the  Tombs  myself  on  all  the  visiting-days, 

[54] 


REVENGE    is    MINE 


but  I  never  knew  that  the  girl  was  going 
there,  too." 

"  Do  you  think/*  continued  the  woman, 
"that  the  girl's  mother  will  stand  true 
upon  the  witness-stand  ?  " 

"  I  am  pretty  certain  she  will.  She 
views  Rubenstein  as  her  son-in-law,  and 
makes  almost  as  much  ado  over  him  as 
she  would  over  her  own  boy." 

"  Then  you  can  rely  upon  her  because 
next  to  the  love  of  a  wife  or  a  fiancee  is 
that  of  a  mother.  And  how  about  this 
old  clergyman  ?" 

Spencer  laughed  heartily. 

"  He  is  all  right.  I  think  Rubenstein 
has  already  engaged  him  to  perform  the 
ceremony,  and  he  is  looking  forward  with 
joy  to  the  event.  Cheer  up,  my  woman, 
cheer  up  !  Don't  break  down.  Every 
thing  is  coming  out  all  right.  We  will 
acquit  Rubenstein,  and  all  go  to  his  wed 
ding  and  drink  the  health  of  him  and  his 

[55] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


tidy  little  bride.  It  is  barely  possible  that 
his  love  for  her  may  cause  him  to  change 
his  mode  of  living  and  become  a  decent 


man." 


The  office  fronted  to  the  west,  and 
through  the  windows  the  sinking  sun 
sent  a  red  glare  which  filled  the  rooms 
with  its  dull  splendor.  The  woman 
pushed  back  her  chair  and  rose.  Despite 
her  shabby  clothing,  the  gray  in  her  hair, 
and  the  marks  of  care  and  suffering  on 
her  face,  she  was  still  handsome.  Her 
oval  face  was  Oriental  in  its  symme 
try  ;  her  dark-brown  eyes  had  the  softness 
and  luminous  beauty  of  the  Hebrew  race, 
and  her  figure  still  preserved  much  of  the 
grace  and  strength  of  its  early  attractive 
ness.  She  drew  herself  to  her  full  height, 
and  for  a  second  stood  like  a  statue.  The 
lawyers  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  not  un 
derstanding  the  change  that  was  taking 
place  within  her  soul.  Then,  with  a  look 

[56] 


REVENGE    is    MINE 


that  was  as  cold  and  stern  as  that  of  a  judge 
pronouncing  sentence  of  death  upon  a 
condemned  murderer,  she  said,  in  meas 
ured  speech  : 

"  Mr.  Spencer,  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  you.  You  have  relieved  me  of  a  great 
fear.  You  did  not  know,  I  see,  that  your 
client,  the  thief  Rubenstein,  had  a  wife, 
who  had  cared  for  him  and  protected 
him  through  his  years  of  disgrace  and 
crime.  You  did  not  know  that  she, 
through  her  love  for  that  man,  had  gone 
down  into  the  deepest  depths.  You  did 
not  know  that  he  had  blasted  the  lives  of 
all  near  and  dear  to  him,  and  had  done 
things  to  that  wife  which  would  have 
made  ordinary  women  kill  him.  Four 
times  when  he  fell  into  the  meshes  of  the 
law,  she  raised  the  money  which  secured 
your  talent.  Was  he  grateful  for  this  act 
of  self-sacrifice  ?  Did  he  come  back  to 
her,  as  she  entreated  and  as  he  promised 

[57] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


to  do  ?  Did  he  give  up  crime  and  crim 
inals  ?  The  fact  that  you  defend  him  to 
morrow  is  sufficient  answer.  When  he 
was  arrested  and  thrown  into  the  Tombs 
in  this  present  case,  there  was  but  one  soul 
in  the  world  who  would  help  him,  and 
it  was  that  woman,  his  wife.  To  raise 
the  retaining  fee,  she  pawned  her  finery ; 
to  raise  the  $200  for  your  trial-fee,  she 
has  mortgaged  everything  in  her  home  ; 
and  for  this  he  has  lied  to  her  and  made 
believe  love  her,  and  during  all  this  time 
he  was  laughing  in  his  sleeve  and  enjoy 
ing  the  sentiment  and  affection  of  the 
little  girl  who  will  testify  for  him  to 
morrow.  It  is  a  long  lane  which  has  no 
turning,  and  that  woman,  his  wife,  has 
found  it  out.  She  has  taken  to  the  Dis 
trict  Attorney  the  pawnbroker  where 
Rubenstein  pawned  the  stolen  property. 
She  has  taken  the  police  to  the  place 
where  Rubenstein  hid  what  he  had  not 

[58] 


REVENGE    is    MINE 


pawned,  and  she  has  forced  his  associates 
to  become  witnesses  for  the  State  of  New 
York.  And  that  woman  will  be  in  Court 
to-morrow  and  will  see  him  convicted/' 

The  two  lawyers  were  dumfounded. 
They  looked  at  her,  but  before  they  could 
speak,  she  bowed  and  said : 

"  Gentlemen,  that  woman,  his  wife,  is 
myself.  Good-evening ! >] 

She  was  true  to  her  word.  The  Ses 
sions  were  crowded  the  next  day,  nearly 
all  of  the  people  having  come  to  witness 
the  trial  and  the  expected  acquittal  of  the 
Prince  of  House-thieves.  But  he  was  not 
acquitted.  What  with  the  pawnbroker, 
the  goods,  and  the  other  evidence,  the 
jury,  as  Mr.  Spencer  had  predicted,  found 
him  guilty  without  leaving  their  seats. 
When  the  verdict  was  announced  and  en 
tered  upon  the  minutes  of  the  Court, 
there  was  a  murmur  of  voices  and  a  gasp 
of  surprise  from  many  in  the  audience. 

[59] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


Only  a  few  saw  a  shabby  woman  walk 
over  to  the  chair  where  Rubenstein  sat, 
and  say,  in  a  low  voice :  "  We  have  had  a 
very  satisfactory  trial,  Rubenstein,  but  this 
time  I  was  for  the  prosecution,  and  not 
the  defence." 


[60] 


tb 

The  Story  of  Philip 
i 

MY  friend  Mary  was  a  young 
woman  of  rare  promise.  She 
had  displayed  considerable  abil 
ity  as  a  painter  in  her  girlhood,  had 
studied  under  competent  masters,  and  had 
taken  a  finishing  course  in  Paris,  where 
she  won  the  plaudits  of  both  her  teachers 
and  the  public.  She  had  the  talent  which 
comes  from  a  keen  love  of  nature,  and 
from  having  been  brought  up  in  a  li 
brary.  Her  New  England  parents  and 
grandparents  had  put  by  much  money, 
which  enabled  her  to  taste  of  the  good 
things  of  life,  especially  of  travel,  art,  and 
literature. 

She  loved  ancestry,  and  no  wonder,  for 
[61  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


her  forebears  were  people  worth  loving. 
They  had  been  intensely  religious,  and 
this  hereditary  quality  reappeared  in  her 
character  and  work.  Her  emotions,  ar 
tistic  and  otherwise,  ran  to  religious  sub 
jects  and  things  pertaining  to  the  ethical 
side  of  humanity. 

One  day  Mary  and  I  went  down  into  the 
great  slums  which  lie  east  of  the  Bowery. 
We  carried  sandwiches,  fruit,  and  flowers 
for  a  poor  family  which  Mary  had  un 
earthed  and  inwardly  pledged  herself  to 
care  for  as  far  as  she  could  without  in 
fringing  upon  their  self-respect.  We  also 
went  to  meet  Philip,  a  wonderful  little 
Russian  Jew  or  Lithuak,  who  was  Mary's 
ideal  of  what  Jesu  must  have  been  in  his 
youth  when  he  confronted  the  learned 
doctors  in  the  Temple.  She  had  spoken 
of  him  so  often  that  I  was  eager  to  meet 
him. 

Philip    was    not    at    home    when    we 


THE    STORY    of    PHILIP 


reached  the  frightful  abode  which  he 
called  by  that  name.  So  at  least  said  an 
urchin  who  stood  in  the  dark  doorway  of 
the  tenement-house. 

Mary  and  I  climbed  the  dirty  stairs, 
stumbling  on  splinters  and  broken  boards, 
and  at  one  point  almost  falling  over  a 
huge  box,  which  was  half  full  of  garbage 
and  debris.  On  an  upper  floor  we  entered 
a  small  apartment,  in  which  eight  people 
lived.  It  was  dark,  dingy,  and  altogether 
unwholesome.  In  one  corner  hung  some 
clean,  white  clothes  and  a  well-dusted 
boy's  cap.  Not  far  from  it,  a  little  shelf 
was  fastened  to  the  wall,  on  which  were  a 
few  books.  I  recognized  two  of  them  as 
having  been  purchased  by  Mary  when  we 
were  out  shopping,  some  time  previously. 
A  half-dead  woman,  who  dragged  herself 
from  a  reclining  position  on  the  floor  to 
welcome  us,  said  that  the  corner  where 
the  clothing  hung  was  Philip's,  and  that 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


ever  since  he  had  been  attending  the  St. 
John's  Guild  excursions,  he  had  been 
washing  and  ironing  the  babies'  raiment 
and  at  the  same  time  taking  care  of  his 
own  poor  apparel. 

We  left  after  a  few  moments,  and  went 
to  the  wharf  where  the  St.  John's  Guild 
excursion-boat  was  to  leave  that  day  for 
Staten  Island. 

"  Now,  you  stand  here,"  said  Mary, 
pointing  to  the  left  side  of  the  gang 
plank,  "  and  I'll  stand  over  there  on  the 
right  side,  and  we  will  watch  for  Philip. 
When  you  see  a  boy  with  a  heavenly 
face,  carrying  twins,  bending  over  them 
and  singing,  that  will  be  Philip." 

The  hot  sun  streamed  upon  the  wharf; 
crowds  of  poorly  dressed  women  and  cry 
ing  children  swarmed  in  from  the  side- 
streets,  and  went  on  board  the  roomy 
barge  which,  with  its  tug,  lay  alongside. 
I  was  becoming  tired,  and  my  eyes  wan- 


THE    STORY    of   PHILIP 


dered  across  the  river  to  the  forest  of 
shipping  beyond,  when  I  heard  a  tune, 
sweet  and  low,  hummed  by  someone 
near  by.  I  looked  up,  and  saw,  approach 
ing,  a  slip  of  a  boy  with  twins  in  his 
arms.  His  head  was  bare,  and  his  hat 
lay  upon  the  face  of  one  of  his  little 
charges.  On  his  back  was  strapped  a  big 
bag,  and  under  his  arm  was  a  bundle  of 
clothing.  Behind  him  came  a  middle- 
aged  woman  carrying  two  babies  and 
leading  a  third  child,  who  had  hold  of 
her  skirts.  The  boy's  face  was  a  dream 
of  beauty,  mingled  with  pathos.  His 
skin  was  very  white,  and  so  thin  that  it 
seemed  an  ivory  veil,  drawn  over  sym 
metrical  bones.  The  large,  brown  eyes 
gleamed  like  those  of  an  antelope,  and 
the  dark,  gold-red  hair,  half  curly  and 
half  waved,  swept  over  his  slender  shoul 
ders.  Down  the  plank  he  went,  stop 
ping  to  show  the  woman,  who  was  his 

[65] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


mother,  how  to  take  a  firm  step,  and  en 
couraging  his  brothers  and  sisters.  Once 
he  seemed  about  to  slip  on  the  smooth 
boards,  but  his  compressed  lips  and  firm 
bearing  showed  that  there  was  no  dan 
ger  of  mishap.  I  recognized  Philip,  and 
spoke  to  Mary.  We  followed  him  into 
the  barge,  where  I  was  presented  to  her 
protege.  We  spent  the  day  on  the  float 
ing  hospital,  and  enjoyed  the  trip  beyond 
the  harbor,  through  the  Narrows  and  into 
the  lower  bay. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  the  tired  chil 
dren  were  sleeping  soundly  beneath  the 
shady  awnings  of  the  upper  deck,  we 
formed  a  circle  near  them,  and  Philip  told 
us  of  a  visit  he  had  made  the  day  before 
to  a  little  church  in  his  neighborhood, 
and  of  the  rapture  he  felt  when  he  gazed 
upon  the  stained-glass  windows,  the 
stately  altar,  and  the  carving  and  coloring 
of  the  interior.  He  grew  interested  in 
[66] 


THE    STORY    of   PHILIP 


his  own  story,  and  did  not  notice  that 
Mary  was  sketching  him  as  he  talked. 
The  story  and  the  sketch  were  finished  at 
about  the  same  time,  and  she  handed  her 
work  to  us  with  a  pleased  smile.  She 
had  caught  the  boy's  expression  and  re 
produced  it  with  almost  photographic  ac 
curacy.  Later  on,  the  boy  excused  him 
self,  and  vanished  into  the  lower  part  of 
the  barge.  As  he  went  down  the  com 
panion-ladder,  his  mother  leaned  over  tow 
ard  us  and  said,  with  a  strong  Slavonian 
accent :  "  He  is  a  good  boy.  He  has 
gone  down  to  wash  out  the  children's 
clothing  and  dry  it  in  the  drying-room 
they  have  on  board.  He  always  does 
that  when  we  go  on  these  picnics,  and 
there  is  a  nurse  who  looks  over  the  cloth 
ing  afterward,  and  sews  on  the  buttons 
and  fixes  up  the  tears." 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


II 

The  excursion  came  to  an  end,  and 
there  was  peacefulness  for  us  both  as  we 
passed  in  the  evening  through  the  streets 
from  the  wharf  to  the  Third  Avenue 
Elevated  Railway,  and  thence  onward  to 
Mary's  studio  in  Fifty-ninth  Street. 

"  Come  to-morrow,"  said  Mary,  as  we 
parted  at  her  doorway.  "  Philip  has 
promised  to  sit  for  me  in  the  studio,  and 
I  am  to  allow  him  to  bring  the  little 
ones  after  they  are  properly  washed  and 
dressed.  I  have  hired  my  housemaid  to 
take  care  of  the  youngsters  and  amuse 
them  while  I  am  sketching  Philip." 

I  went  the  next  day,  and  for  many  days 
afterward.  As  the  picture  progressed, 
Philip  fell  into  the  habit  of  studying  it 
when  the  sitting  was  over.  He  wondered 
why  Mary  put  him  in  a  queer  building 
with  no  roof  but  the  sky,  and  who  the 
[  68  ] 


THE    STORY    of   PHILIP 


solemn-looking,  strangely  dressed,  bearded 
men  were  that  had  been  painted  standing 
or  sitting  around  him  upon  the  canvas. 
He  knew  every  type  of  man  in  New 
York,  even  the  queerly  dressed  immi 
grants  who,  during  the  warm  weather, 
come  up  every  day  from  the  barge  office ; 
but  never  had  he  seen,  either  on  the  street 
or  in  the  few  books  which  he  had  read, 
anyone  who  looked  like  the  characters 
that  had  been  sketched  by  Mary  in  the 
picture.  He  spoke  about  it,  inquiringly, 
and  Mary  told  him  the  story  of  the  Tem 
ple  and  its  splendors,  of  the  Rabbis  and 
great  doctors  who  once  were  the  glory  of 
Jerusalem,  and  of  the  argument  which 
Jesu  had  once  had  with  them,  in  which 
he  had  amazed  them  with  his  strange 
learning. 

The  boy  listened  with  rapt  attention, 
but  made  no  comment.  Shortly  after 
this,  I  noticed  that  Philip  began  to  reach 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


the  studio  a  half-hour  or  even  an  hour 
before  the  appointed  time.  He  would 
stand  or  sit  in  front  of  the  picture  where 
his  face  was  the  central  figure,  and  watch 
the  canvas  as  if  it  were  a  scene  in  real 
life.  Several  times  he  muttered  some 
thing,  and  once  I  fancied  I  heard  him 
say :  "  I  may  have  been  there  after  all/' 

During  the  sittings  he  grew  more  con 
fiding,  and  told  her,  piecemeal,  the  details 
of  his  dismal  life  in  the  tenement.  It 
was  a  pitiful  story,  a  tragical  story,  marked 
by  endless  incident  of  sorrow  and  suffer 
ing.  He  spoke  of  the  sickness  of  the 
babies,  of  the  death  of  a  lame  sister, 
who,  according  to  his  canons,  was  the 
most  beautiful  child  that  ever  lived,  of 
his  mother's  hopeless  grief,  and  of  the 
wretched  plights  of  his  father  when 
the  latter  was  unable  to  obtain  work  in 
the  sweat-shops. 

I    learned,  for   the  first  time,  of   the 


THE    STORY    of   PHILIP 


cruel  money-lenders  of  the  East  Side,  who 
grind  the  poor  and  extort  more  money 
from  them,  by  reason  of  their  hideous 
poverty,  than  the  meanest  pawnbroker 
does  in  other  parts  of  the  city,  and  of 
the  queer  co-operative  schemes  whereby 
a  dozen  families,  by  paying  a  few  cents  a 
day,  are  enabled  to  obtain  the  services  of 
a  doctor,  and  the  necessary  medicines, 
without  any  other  cost. 

Philip  also  spoke,  though  rarely,  of  the 
ill-treatment  he  had  received  from  neigh 
bors,  and  of  the  pitfalls  into  which  youth 
and  innocence  in  that  quarter  of  the  city 
are  forever  being  drawn. 

We  encouraged  these  talks,  because 
they  brought  out  expressions  of  perpetual 
variety  of  force  upon  the  youth's  face. 
Time  and  again,  Mary  would  catch  one 
of  these  and  transfer  it  to  her  canvas. 
Philip's  face  was  very  mobile,  and  always 
accompanied  the  tenor  of  his  thought. 

[71  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


In  this  way  it  served  as  a  model  for  the 
face  of  Jesu,  which  Mary  was  painting, 
and  several  minor  characters  of  the 
tableau. 

One  day  Philip  did  not  come  to  the 
studio,  and  Mary  asked  me  to  call  at  his 
home.  I  did  so,  and  found  the  boy 
quite  ill.  I  sent  for  a  physician,  one  of 
those  noble  men  who  consecrate  their 
knowledge  and  talents  to  the  alleviation 
of  the  poor.  He  examined  the  child, 
shook  his  head,  and  said : 

"  It  is  the  old  story  ;  no  particular  dis 
ease,  but  the  undermining  of  human  life 
by  wrongful  modes  of  living  and  a  deadly 
atmosphere."  He  believed  that  there  was 
still  hope  if  the  boy  could  be  taken  away 
from  his  mephitic  surroundings,  and  have 
the  benefit  of  fresh  air,  good  food,  warmth, 
and  sunlight* 


[7*] 


THE    STORY    of   PHILIP 


III 

Thus  it  came  about  that  Philip  made 
his  home  in  our  little  flat.  Two  weeks 
passed  by,  and  then  on  several  days  we 
missed  him  for  an  hour  or  two.  We 
thought  he  had  strolled  over  to  Central 
Park,  to  enjoy  the  flowers  and  trees,  and 
gave  the  matter  no  thought.  One  day 
the  housemaid  told  us  that,  instead  of 
going  to  the  park,  Philip  had  walked  the 
long  distance  down  to  his  home,  cleaned 
up  the  house,  washed  the  babies'  clothing, 
and  stayed,  making  his  people  comfortable, 
until  nearly  the  hour  when  he  was  needed 
in  the  studio. 

When  he  returned,  we  spoke  to  him 
about  it,  and  told  him  that  he  must  not 
go  to  Hester  Street  until  he  recovered 
his  health  and  strength,  and  that  if  he  did 
go  he  was  liable  to  grow  weaker  and  die. 
He  murmured  something  unintelligible 

[73  J 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


about  not  being  able  to  live  without  see 
ing  the  babies  and  his  mother,  and  then 
walked  over  to  the  canvas,  which  was 
now  nearing  completion.  Several  days 
afterward,  a  number  of  friends,  artists 
and  critics,  gathered  at  the  studio  to  see 
Mary's  work. 

They  pronounced  it  the  best  tableau 
she  had  ever  painted,  and  one  very  critical 
acquaintance,  who  was  seldom  known  to 
praise  anything  or  anybody,  astonished 
the  circle  by  pronouncing  it  a  stroke  of 
genius. 

We  were  delighted  at  the  praise,  which, 
I  am  sure,  was  deserved,  and  which  acted 
as  a  stimulus  to  Mary's  industry  and  skill. 
The  hours  passed  rapidly  now,  as  the  end 
of  the  work  appeared  in  sight.  In  leisure 
moments,  we  built  castles  in  Spain,  around 
the  picture,  and  soberly  discussed  how 
much  it  should  be  sold  for,  and  what 
should  be  the  distribution  of  the  money. 

[74  ] 


THE    STORY    of   PHILIP 


Some  should  be  set  aside  for  Philip's 
benefit,  and  another  portion  would  enable 
his  family  to  buy  a  little  grocery-store  in 
a  down-town  basement,  or  in  one  of  the 
suburbs  like  Mount  Vernon  or  Stapleton. 
But  there  was  one  thing  which  dis 
turbed  us.  Philip  had  lost  his  joyous 
look.  When  he  posed  on  the  little  plat 
form,  he  no  longer  smiled,  but  gazed,  with 
a  longing  that  was  pathetic,  upon  the  can 
vas,  whenever  he  turned  his  face  that  way. 
His  expression  seemed  to  change  from 
what  it  had  been,  until  Mary  grew  fear 
ful  that  she  would  be  obliged  to  alter  the 
face  on  the  canvas,  and  make  it  more 
like  the  new  Philip,  older,  sadder,  and 
more  careworn.  We  tried  hard  to  bring 
back  his  former  joyousness,  and  resorted 
to  all  sorts  of  expedients.  Mary  bought 
him  candy,  but  it  had  lost  its  former  fas 
cination.  I  gave  him  a  penknife.  He 
smiled,  admired  it  listlessly,  and  then  put 

[  75  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


it  away.  We  even  got  up  a  party  for  the 
benefit  of  his  family,  and  had  them  all  up 
to  the  studio,  but  the  boy's  mood  never 
changed. 

One  day  a  sort  of  ecstasy  spread  over 
his  face.  He  grew  feverish,  and  that 
night  slept  longer  than  usual.  In  the 
morning,  Mary  asked  him  if  he  felt  well, 
and  he  startled  us  by  answering: 

"  Where  is  the  Angel  Lord,  lady,  of 
whom  you  have  told  me?  Will  he  not 
look  after  me  ? " 

She  was  mute  a  little  while,  and  then, 
with  a  voice  in  which  I  detected  a  strange 
tenderness,  she  told  him  of  the  care  and 
love  which  Jehovah,  the  God  of  both 
Christian  and  Jew,  had  for  all,  especially 
for  those  who  needed  it  the  most. 

He  listened,  smiling,  and  then,  lying 
back  in  the  easy  chair,  he  turned  his 
little  wan  face  from  her  and  seemed  to 
sleep. 

[76] 


THE    STORY    of   PHILIP 


At  twilight  that  evening,  I  looked  at 
him  as  he  sat  by  the  window,  reading,  and 
then  at  the  picture.  The  difference  be 
tween  the  two  faces  had  become  so  ex 
traordinary  that  it  brought  up  a  half-for 
gotten  story  I  had  read  years  before. 

"Mary,"  I  asked,  "  do  you  remember 
the  Flemish  legend  of  the  artist  who 
painted  the  Madonna  and  used  a  peasant- 
girl  for  his  model  ?" 

"  Yes/'  she  replied,  "  the  woman  got 
so  interested  in  *  Our  Lady  '  that  she  used 
to  come  and  sit  before  it,  tell  it  all  her 
thoughts,  hopes,  joys,  and  sorrows,  and 
finally  starved  to  death  because  she  could 
not  leave  it." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  more  dreadful  still,"  I 
remarked,  "  for  I  often  half  believe  that 
the  painter  stole  the  woman's  soul  and 
put  it  into  the  canvas." 

"  Oh,  no,"  responded  Mary.  "  He 
was  the  medium,  and  the  woman  the 

[77] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


actor.  He  never  knew  what  had  been 
done  until  long  after  she  had  passed 
away." 

As  she  spoke,  she  looked  at  Philip. 
He  was  standing  motionless,  looking  fix 
edly  at  the  canvas.  He  might  have  been 
the  painted  figure  in  the  frame  himself. 
In  fact,  the  latter  looked  more  real  and 
human  than  did  Philip,  on  whose  face 
there  gleamed  a  strange  lustre.  Mary 
turned  to  me,  and,  with  her  slender  hand, 
motioned  me  to  join  her  in  the  hall. 

Here  she  asked  : 

"  For  what  purpose  did  you  tell  me 
that  story  ?" 

"  Nothing/*  I  answered.  "  It  was 
only  a  sudden  impulse,  and  yet  I  have  a 
fear  at  my  heart  in  regard  to  the  boy. 
Let  us  send  him  away  for  a  few  weeks  in 
the  country.  He  is  tired  and  nervous, 
and  his  imagination  is  intensely  active. 
Perhaps  I  am  superstitious,  but  I  really 

[  78  ] 


THE    STORY    of    PHILIP 


have  a  horrible  dread  that  the  picture  is 
absorbing  his  life  and  his  soul." 

"I  think  you  are  right,"  replied  Mary; 
"  we  will  take  him  away  to-morrow 
morning,  and  have  a  vacation  ourselves 
with  him." 

We  retired  early  that  night,  but  I  could 
not  sleep.  I  tossed  and  turned,  and, 
whether  waking  or  sleeping,  I  seemed  to 
see  two  Philips,  one  painted  and  one 
alive,  yet  could  not  tell  which  was  the 
real  and  which  the  copy.  Just  after  dawn 
I  heard  a  rustle  in  the  studio,  and  rose  to 
see  what  it  was.  I  drew  the  curtains 
aside  which  separated  our  room  from  the 
other  one,  and  called  Mary.  She  was  at 
my  side  in  a  second.  In  front  of  the 
canvas  knelt  Philip,  as  if  in  prayer.  His 
hands  were  extended,  and  he  was  saying 
something  in  a  low,  sweet  voice  which 
we  could  not  understand.  Upon  the 
picture  and  the  boy  was  a  warm,  celestial 

[79] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


light  which  seemed  supernatural,  but  was 
really  the  first  splendor  of  the  sunrise.  I 
made  a  step  forward,  and  the  boy  fell  for 
ward  in  my  arms.  Mary  ran  quickly  to 
my  aid.  The  white  face  was  even  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  but  the  heroic  soul 
within  had  been  carried  away  by  the  in 
visible  angel  of  the  dawn. 

Mary  afterward  gave  the  picture  to  a 
little  chapel,  uptown,  where  it  is  to-day. 


[80] 


The  Run  on  ]obblelousky'>  s 

JOBBLELOUSKY'S  bank  is  a  revered 
institution  of  the  East  Side.    It  started 
in   prehistoric   times,  that  is   to  say, 
before  the  beginning  of  the  great  Russian 
immigration.     The   head    of   the    house 
was  a  patriarchal  gentleman,  who  owned 
several  blocks  of  houses,  all  free  and  clear 
of  encumbrance.      His  sons  and  sons-in- 
law,  all  neatly  dressed,  polite  and  ener 
getic,  were  the  clerks,  book-keepers,  and 
cashiers  in  the  establishment.      Incident 
ally,  everyone  of  them  was  also  the  owner 
of  real  estate,  and  was  in  a  fair  way  to  ri 
val  the  progenitor  in  the  course  of  time. 
Blaustein,     the    little    shoemaker     on 
the  corner,  said  that  Jobblelousky  was  as 
rich  as  Rothschild,  and  Blaustein  was  the 
gossip    of  the    neighborhood   and    knew 
[81  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


more  about  the  private  affairs  of  every  in 
dividual  than  all  the  men  in  the  white- 
marble  police-palace  in  Mulberry  Street. 
At  any  rate,  Jobblelousky  was  very  rich. 
Certainly,  he  was  worth  a  million  dollars, 
and  his  income  rolled  in  very  much  as  the 
waters  of  the  Hudson  sweep  into  the  sea. 
He  was  the  banker  of  the  East  Side. 
There  are  banks  and  bankers  over  there, 
but  where  they  did  business  in  hundreds, 
Jobblelousky  did  it  in  thousands.  The 
Chemical  Bank,  which  is  the  most  con 
servative  in  the  world,  put  his  note  on  a 
par  with  that  of  Uncle  Sam,  and  the  trust- 
companies  accepted  his  signature  as  they 
would  that  of  the  Treasurer  of  the  United 
States.  Every  day,  from  two  to  five  hun 
dred  people  entered  the  bank  to  deposit 
or  withdraw,  to  borrow  or  indorse,  and 
all  went  away  convinced  that  this  bank 
was  as  firm  as  the  eternal  hills. 

No  one  had   more  confidence  in  Job- 

[  82  ] 


THE    RUN    on    J  o  B  B  L  E  L  o  u  s  K  Y  '  s 

blelousky  than  his  three  neighbors,  Wein- 
berg,  the  sweatshop-man ;  Einstein,  the 
dealer  in  buttons  and  tailors'  trimmings, 
and  Weinhole,  the  petticoat-maker.  They 
carried  large  accounts  in  the  bank,  and 
had  even  larger  credits. 

It  was  the  first  week  in  December,  and 
the  three  men  happened  to  meet  in  the 
bank.  They  exchanged  salutations,  trans 
acted  their  business,  and  went  out  to 
gether.  It  was  a  dull  day,  so  far  as  their 
shops  were  concerned,  and  Einstein  said: 

"  Come  in  my  shop,  friends,  and  have 
a  glass  of  raisin- wine  !  "  The  invitation 
was  accepted,  and  the  wine  proved  very 
palatable.  The  first  bottle  was  followed 
by  a  second,  and  the  conversation  became 
quite  lively. 

"I  often  wish,"  said  Weinhole,  "that 
our  people  at  this  time  of  the  year  could 
get  up  a  Christmas  excitement  like  the 
Gentiles ;  it  makes  me  mad  to  see  things 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


so  dull  down  here  and  so  lively  on  Broad 
way  and  Sixth  Avenue. " 

"  That  is  so,"  exclaimed  Weinberg, 
"  Christmas  is  a  fine  thing,  especially  be 
cause  people  pay  any  price  that's  charged. 
My  brother,  who  has  a  store  on  Sixth 
Avenue,  says  he  will  make  a  hundred  per 
cent,  in  the  Christmas  season,  where  he 
cannot  make  more  than  forty  the  rest  of 
the  year  !  " 

"  It  would  be  a  good  idea/'  added  Ein 
stein,  "  if  we  could  have  a  Jewish  Christ 
mas  without  any  religion  to  it:  a  sort  of 
a  big  chanuka." 

"  No  doubt  about  it,"  answered  Wein 
berg.  "  Just  think  how  the  women  would 
like  the  evergreens,  and  the  little  folks  the 
drums  and  horns,  and  the  dolls.  Religion 
is  a  good  thing,  but  now  and  then  it  does 
hurt  business  terribly." 

Weinhole  was  looking  toward  the 
window. 

[  84] 


THE    RUN    on    JOBBLELOUSKY'S 

"  But  one  fellow's  business  is  not  dull 
down  here.  That's  old  Jobblelousky. 
Look  at  the  crowd  going  in  there.  Ev 
eryone  is  carrying  in  from  five  cents  to 
one  dollar  clear  profit  to  the  bank.  Just 
think  of  it !  Here,  in  New  Year's  week, 
he'll  pay  forty  thousand  dollars,  at  least, 
out  in  interest.  I  only  wish  I  could  have 
some  of  it." 

"  So  do  I,"  echoed  the  other  two. 

"  By  the  way,  I  think  we  can  get  some 
of  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  was  the  ex 
cited  query. 

"  I  mean  this :  We'll  start  a  run  on 
the  bank  and  buy  up  deposits." 

"  Oh,  nonsense.  How  could  you  ? 
Jobblelousky  is  as  strong  as  the  govern 
ment.  No  one  would  ever  get  afraid 
about  Jobblelousky." 

"  Now,  that's  just  where  you  are  wrong. 
You  have  only  been  ten  years  in  this  city, 

[8s  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


and  I  have  been  here  twenty-five.  There 
were  two  runs  on  Jobblelousky's,  and  the 
people  drew  out  more  than  half  the 
money  they  had  there.  It  did  not  hurt 
him  much,  because  he  saved  all  the  inter 
est  which  he  would  otherwise  have  paid. 
Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  I'll  go 
over  there  this  morning  and  borrow  $  i  o,- 
ooo.  He'll  ask  me  why,  and  I'll  say  it 
is  to  buy  a  store. 

"Later  on,  one  of  you  two  borrow 
$11,500  and  the  other  borrow  $12,000. 
That  will  be  our  capital,  and  to-morrow, 
when  we  have  the  run  in  full  blast,  we'll 
buy  up  claims  against  Jobblelousky  at  a 
discount." 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  start  a  run  ? " 
asked  the  cautious  Einstein. 

"  Certainly.      Our   people   are  so  sus 
picious  that  they   are  worse   than   Gen 
tiles.      If  we  start  it   in    the   right   way 
this     evening,     we'll      have     this    street 
[  86  ] 


THE    RUN    on    Jo B B L E LO us K Y'S 

packed  with  people  to-morrow  at  eight 
o'clock/' 

"  How  are  you  going  to  do  it  ? " 
"  Wait  until  four  o'clock,  when  the 
bank  closes ;  then  go  to  my  wife  and  say 
'  Thank  God,  I  will  tell  you  a  secret, 
Jobblelousky  is  ruined.  He  has  been 
speculating  in  Wall  Street,  and  has  lost  all 
his  money  and  half  of  the  money  belong 
ing  to  his  depositors.  I  found  it  out 
through  a  friend,  and  I  have  gotten  all 
my  money.  Your  sister  and  your  cousin 
have  accounts  there.  You  go  round  now 
and  see  them,  and  tell  them  to  get  into 
the  bank  early  in  the  morning  and  draw 
their  money  and  make  them  promise  to 
you  that  they  will  not  speak  about  it  to 
anybody  and  never  tell  who  told  them. 
The  promise  is  not  enough.  Make  them 
swear  that  they  will  tell  nobody.  If  the 
secret  gets  around,  nobody  will  get  any 
thing.'" 

[87] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


At  four  o'clock,  the  three  husbands 
showed  their  money  to  their  wives  and 
told  them  the  dread  secret.  The  wives 
beamed  with  delight  and  shivered  with 
sympathy  at  the  thought  of  a  sister  or  a 
dear  cousin  losing  their  accounts  in  the 
bank.  Usually,  dinners  in  the  three 
households  consumed  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  but  on  this  day  they  were  hurried 
through  in  ten  minutes.  The  moment 
the  meal  was  over,  the  dishes  were  washed, 
the  house  righted  in  double-quick  time, 
and  the  wives  were  on  the  street. 

Officer  Gilligan  and  his  colleague,  Gill- 
hooley,  who  were  on  that  beat,  said  after 
ward  that  they  never  saw  so  much  calling 
in  all  their  lives  as  happened  that  evening. 
It  kept  on  all  night,  and  there  were  more 
people  going  from  house  to  house  at  five 
in  the  morning  than  at  nine  in  the  even 
ing.  At  seven  o'clock  the  next  day,  a 
mob  of  five  hundred  people  were  in  front 
[88] 


THE    RUN    on    JOBBLELOUSKY'S 

of  the  bank.  At  eight  o'clock,  there  were  a 
thousand ;  at  nine,  the  police-reserves  were 
called  out,  and  the  crowd  formed  into 
huge,  serpentine  lines.  It  ran  half  around 
the  block,  and  then  doubled  on  itself  and 
redoubled  like  a  snake  about  to  spring. 
When  Jobblelousky  arrived  at  the  bank 
from  his  residence  up-town,  he  was  almost 
paralyzed  with  amazement. 

He  was  about  to  speak  to  the  man 
nearest  to  the  carriage,  when  the  crowd 
recognized  him  and  gave  vent  to  a  roar, 
in  which  rage,  hatred,  and  cruelty  were 
intensely  manifest. 

A  police-sergeant  came  forward  and 
said: 

"  I  would  not  stand  here,  sir,  if  I  were 
you.  That  crowd  is  too  excited  and  may 
give  us  trouble.  Go  inside  and  open  the 
bank  and  pay  them  off/' 

The  bank  was  opened,  and  all  the  force 
put  to  work,  paying  off  the  depositors. 

'  [  89  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


This  is  not  quick  work  upon  any  occasion  ; 
to-day,  the  excitement  both  within  and 
without  the  bank  made  it  doubly  slow. 
Women  became  hysterical,  and  strong  men 
broke  into  tears  at  the  prospect  of  losing 
their  savings.  About  ten  o'clock,  in  the 
window  of  each  of  the  three  conspirators 
appeared  a  large  sign. 
On  one,  it  read : 

CLAIMS  AGAINST  THE  BANK  BOUGHT 
Up. 

On  Einstein's,  it  read,  in  Hebrew  : 
OUT  OF  GREAT    RESPECT     FOR  MR. 
JOBBLELOUSKY,  IN  HlS  RECENT  CALAM 
ITY,  WE  WILL  BUY  Up  DEPOSIT-BOOKS 
AT  A  VERY  SMALL  DISCOUNT. 

While  in  Weinhole's,  the  placard  read  : 

WE  ARE  SURE  THAT  JOBBLELOUSKY 
WILL  EVENTUALLY  PAY  EVERY  CENT, 
BUT  THOSE  WHO  WANT  IT  Now  CAN 
SELL  THEIR  CLAIMS  HERE  FOR  CASH. 

[90] 


THE    RUN    on    J  o  B  B  L  E  L  o  u  s  K  Y  '  s 

All  three  places  did  a  rushing  business 
from  the  start.  As  the  day  wore  on,  the 
three  tradesmen  advanced  the  discount 
from  five  to  twelve  per  cent.  At  two  in 
the  afternoon,  there  was  a  slight  slacking 
of  business,  and  the  trio  met. 

"The  crowd  is  as  great  as  ever,"  said 
Einstein,  "  but  they  are  not  selling  claims 
in  my  place." 

"  Nor  in  mine,"  said  the  other  two. 

Weinhole  looked  thoughtful,  and  then 
whispered,  "  I'll  go  down  and  hire  twenty 
professional  mourners  at  fifty  cents  apiece 
to  come  up  and  weep." 

"That  is  a  fine  idea,"  replied  Wein- 
berg.  "  It  will  arouse  sympathy  and 
emotion." 

Ere  long,  the  professional  mourners  ap 
peared  upon  the  scene,  and  filled  the  air 
with  their  waitings.  Each  had  a  bank 
book  in  her  hand,  which  had  been  pro 
vided  for  the  purpose  by  Einstein,  and, 

[91  ]' 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


instead  of  getting  on  the  line,  they  hung 
around  the  bank,  only  to  be  driven  away 
by  the  police.  The  effect  was  instanta 
neous.  The  selling  of  claims  revived,  and 
kept  on  until  eight  o'clock  that  evening. 

The  next  day,  the  conspirators  borrowed 
some  $30,000  from  the  Broadway  banks, 
as  their  first  supply  of  cash  was  nearing 
its  end.  At  twelve  o'clock,  business  fell 
off,  and  this  time  Weinhole  rose  equal  to 
the  occasion. 

"  I'll  get  a  band  of  drunken  Dutch 
musicians  to  play  all  the  afternoon,  around 
the  corner,  and  I  will  select  dead-marches 
and  other  kinds  of  dismal  music.  The 
music  would  do  the  work  alone,  but  when 
it  is  played  badly  by  drunken  men,  it  will 
make  our  people  crazy." 

At  seven  o'clock  that  evening,  the  trio 
closed  business.  They  had  used  up  all 
their  money,  and  had  cleared  nearly  $6,000 
on  their  three  days'  work. 

[92] 


THE    RUN    on    JOBBLELOUSKY 's 

The  next  morning  they  entered  the 
bank.  The  run  was  over.  Confidence 
had  been  restored,  and  the  very  people 
who  had  drawn  their  money  out  were 
now  putting  it  back,  and  cursing  them 
selves  for  having  lost  their  interest  or  for 
having  sold  their  claims  to  the  speculators. 
The  three  conspirators  entered  the  bank 
about  half-past  nine  and  walked  to  the 
cashier's  window. 

"  We  would  like  to  take  up  those 
notes,  Morris,"  they  said  to  the  official. 

He  looked  at  them  a  moment,  left  the 
window,  and  came  back  with  the  notes 
and  Jobblelousky.  The  money  was 
counted  out,  the  notes  stamped  "  paid," 
and  handed  back. 

"  That  was  a  fine  piece  of  business  you 
did,"  said  Jobblelousky.  "  You  saved  me 
$20,000  in  interest,  which  is,  of  course, 
clear  profit,  and  made  about  $5,000  your 
selves.  But  if  you  will  kindly  bring  in 

[93  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


your  pass-books  I  shall  close  your  ac 
counts  for  good.  To-morrow  morning 
I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  all  three 
of  you  will  be  arrested  on  a  charge  of 
malicious  conspiracy,  for  which  you  were 
indicted  yesterday. " 


[94] 


A  B/Vv/  of  Prey 

WHEN  Isaac  Goldstein  made  up 
his  mind  to  become  a  crook, 
circumstance,  or  the  "  Prince 
of  Flies,"  as  the  Hebrew  myths  call  the 
devil,  seemed  to  favor  him.  His  specialty 
was  confidence-operations,  but  what  he 
prided  himself  upon,  was  his  skill  as  a 
card-sharper.  There  is  an  element  of 
grim  humor  in  nature  which  compels  a 
man  to  admire  his  little,  dwarf  qualities, 
and  to  ignore  his  big,  stalwart  ones.  It 
was  so  with  Isaac.  Had  he  confined 
himself  to  those  forms  of  malefaction 
known  as  obtaining  money  under  false 
pretences,  this  story  would  never  have  been 
written.  But  it  was  through  his  over- 
weaning  conceit,  in  respect  to  legerde 
main,  that  caused  his  ultimate  downfall. 

[95  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


For  several  years  his  hunting-ground 
extended  from  Grand  Street  and  East 
Broadway  on  the  north,  to  Chatham  Square 
on  the  south.  Once  or  twice  he  had 
made  voyages  of  exploration  and  dis 
covery  to  the  Barge-office,  but  here  he 
soon  learned  that  the  incoming  Slovak 
and  Polak  did  not  possess  enough  money 
to  reimburse  any  chevalier  d'industrie 
for  the  time,  energy,  and  risk  involved 
in  the  acquisition  of  illegitimate  gain. 

Just  as  there  is  an  odor  of  sanctity  in 
this  world,  so  there  is  a  malodor  of  sin, 
and  this  ethical  perfume,  by  degrees,  so 
permeated  Isaac's  being,  that  he  became 
unpleasant  to  the  moral  nostrils  of  the 
East  Side.  He  noticed  the  change  him 
self,  with  some  degree  of  vindictiveness. 
It  came  home  very  forcibly  one  even 
ing  when  he  was  politely  informed  at 
Schmuckler's  restaurant  that  he  was  no 
longer  welcome  within  its  doors.  Shortly 

[96] 


A    BIRD    0/*   P  RE  Y 


afterward,  entrance  was  refused  at  Men 
delssohn  Hall.  Then  a  cafe  declined  to 
accept  his  patronage.  The  worst  insult 
of  all  came  when  the  proprietor  of  a 
cheap  saloon,  in  Essex  Street,  refused  to 
serve  him  with  drink,  accompanying  the 
refusal  with  the  remark  that  he  might  be 
a  poor  man,  but  he  would  not  knowingly 
"  take  money  which  had  been  stolen  by 
a  thief." 

Thus,  as  time  rolled  by,  Isaac  found 
that  his  circle  of  acquaintances  had  nar 
rowed  to  criminals,  and  men  consorting 
with  criminals,  and  that  the  only  places 
where  he  was  welcome  were  those  which 
had  an  unsavory  reputation,  with  Jews 
and  Gentiles  alike.  He  resented  the  an 
tipathy  in  many  ways.  He  increased  the 
costliness  and  splendor  of  his  attire ;  he 
invited  more  people  to  drink  and  smoke 
with  him,  and  he  denounced,  in  unmeas 
ured  terms,  the  hypocrisy  and  sanctimony 

[97  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


of  the  bourgeoisie.  If  his  genius  had 
been  political  in  character,  he  would  have 
become  a  ranting  anarchist,  but  as  it  was, 
he  remained  a  noisy  and  very  conceited 
criminal  of  the  third  or  fourth  class. 

One  evening  he  encountered  a  young 
man  who  lived  in  another  part  of  the 
city.  In  a  quick  glance,  Isaac  saw  that 
the  stranger  was  the  possessor  of  money, 
and  did  his  best  to  win  the  liking  of  the 
chance  acquaintance.  An  invitation  to 
drink  was  accepted,  and  thereafter  one 
to  play  cards.  To  increase  the  interest  of 
the  game,  Isaac  called  in  two  accom 
plices,  and,  between  them,  before  the 
night  was  over,  they  had  relieved  the  in 
experienced  young  man  of  some  $250. 
The  loser  was  game,  and  left  with  a  smile 
upon  his  face.  After  he  had  departed, 
Isaac  made  some  pleasing  joke  about  the 
ease  of  the  separation  of  a  fool  and  his 
money,  and  paid  the  customary  commis- 

[98  ] 


A    BIRD    O/*PREY 


sion  for  their  services  to  his  two  lieuten 
ants.  Even  among  the  crooked  gentry  of 
the  East  Side  there  is  a  code,  if  not  of 
honor,  at  least,  of  business.  A  commis 
sion,  or  percentage,  belongs  to  the  dis 
coverer  of  the  victim,  another  to  the 
proprietor  of  the  place  where  the  victim 
is  shorn ;  a  third  to  the  accomplice  who 
aids  in  the  shearing,  and,  oftentimes,  a 
fourth  to  the  philosophic  policeman  who 
stands  outside  the  door  and  prevents  as 
sault,  battery,  and  disorder  on  the  part  of 
a  recalcitrant  loser.  As  Isaac  had  been 
the  discoverer,  as  well  as  the  chief  oper 
ator,  his  disbursement  that  evening  was 
very  small.  He  paid  $20  each  to  the 
two  accomplices  and  the  proprietor  of  the 
place,  $2  to  the  waiter,  who  protested,  by 
the  way,  and  demanded  $5  but  did  not 
get  it;  $10  to  the  ward-detective,  who 
happened  to  drop  in  that  evening  as  the 
game  was  progressing,  and  $5  to  the 

F  99  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


policeman  who  stood  outside  of  the  door, 
waiting  for  any  emergency  that  might 
occur.  Isaac  strolled  over  to  the  Bowery, 
ate  a  hearty  supper,  and  then,  feeling  ju 
bilant,  went  up  to  the  Tenderloin  to  enjoy 
life,  as  the  deadly  existence  in  that  dis 
trict  is  facetiously  termed  by  its  votaries. 

The  young  man  who  had  been  despoiled 
went  to  his  home.  On  entering,  he  found 
his  father  sitting  up  for  him  and  reading, 
to  pass  away  the  time.  The  quick  eye  of 
the  elder  man  saw  that  something  troubled 
his  son,  and  affectionately  asked  him  what 
it  was.  The  latter  responded,  quickly, 
that  it  was  nothing  in  particular,  and  that 
he  was  only  tired.  The  old  man  was  not 
to  be  deceived,  and,  finally,  the  son  broke 
down  and  told  his  father  of  the  events  of 
the  night.  • 

"  You  might  give  me  the  name  of  the 
place,"  said  his  father,  "  and  I  will  see  if 
I  can  get  some  of  your  money  back." 


A    BIRD    o/*   P  R  E  Y 


The  son  remembered  the  address  and 
gave  it  to  him ;  and  then  frankly  declared 
that  he  had  been  justly  punished  for  his 
folly  in  gambling. 

The  next  day,  the  old  man  dropped  in 
to  the  saloon  and  sat  there,  sipping  min 
eral  water  and  reading  the  papers.  By  a 
few  judicious  gifts  to  the  waiter  and  a 
little  gross  flattery  to  the  proprietor's  wife, 
he  soon  broke  the  ice  and  was  viewed  as 
a  pleasant,  social  acquisition  to  the  place. 
Before  he  left,  he  had  learned  not  only  the 
name,  antecedents,  and  accomplishments 
of  Mr.  Goldstein,  but  also  of  the  ingenious 
system  whereby  the  powers  of  law  and 
order  were  enlisted  in  the  protection  of 
the  noble  industry  of  gambling. 

The  next  day,  and  the  third,  the  old 
man  was  a  visitor  to  the  saloon.  On  the 
former  occasion,  he  made  Goldstein's  ac 
quaintance,  whose  esteem  he  won  by 
stories,  or  rather  hints,  of  misadventures, 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


which  compelled  him  to  lead  a  very  quiet 
life.  On  the  latter  occasion,  he  made  an 
agreement  with  Goldstein  to  bring  in 
wealthy  men  who  had  a  penchant  for 
card-playing,  upon  the  condition  that  he 
should  receive  a  double  commission.  A 
few  evenings  after  this,  the  old  man  ap 
peared  with  the  first  victim.  This  one 
proved  an  easy,  though  not  very  profita 
ble,  prey.  After  he  had  lost  $20,  he  broke 
into  tears,  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  rushed, 
sobbing,  from  the  house.  The  people  in 
the  saloon  laughed,  and  the  old  man 
apologized  for  the  incident  and  declined 
to  receive  any  commission  upon  the 
transaction. 

The  following  week,  he  appeared  with 
another  victim.  This  was  a  bearded, 
well-dressed  man,  of  quiet  manners  and 
soft  speech,  who  accepted  an  invitation  to 
a  friendly  game  of  cards,  and,  ere  five 
minutes  had  passed,  showed  that  he  was 

I02 


A    BIRD    O/*PREY 


very  clumsy  with  his  hands,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  he  was  the  possessor  of 
a  large  amount  of  money.  Goldstein 
chuckled,  inwardly,  and  determined  to  be 
the  owner  of  that  money  before  the  night 
was  over.  With  the  determination  was 
the  happy  feeling  that  the  stranger  was 
about  as  poor  a  card-player  as  he  had  ever 
encountered.  There  was  only  one  fear 
in  the  matter,  which  was  that  the  stranger 
might  become  alarmed  at  the  outset  and 
so  leave  the  game  before  the  losses  had 
grown  considerable.  Goldstein,  with  ex 
cellent  diplomacy,  determined  to  play 
carelessly  himself  in  the  beginning,  and  to 
allow  the  proposed  victim  to  win  a  trifling 
amount.  He  passed  the  word  to  his  ac 
complice,  only  one  of  these  useful  men 
being  on  hand.  The  game  passed  along 
very  quietly  for  about  an  hour,  during 
which  time  the  winnings  and  losings  had 
been  about  equal.  Then  Isaac  began  his 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


professional  work.  The  stranger  played 
worse  than  ever,  and  yet,  by  some  queer 
fatality,  the  cards  behaved  in  the  most 
extraordinary  manner.  When  Isaac  dealt, 
no  matter  how  he  had  prepared  the  cards 
in  advance,  the  stranger  invariably  won, 
and  when  the  stranger  dealt,  in  what  is 
known  on  the  East  Side  as  the  shoe 
maker's  style,  luck  seemed  to  run  the  same 
way.  At  the  end  of  another  hour,  Isaac 
Goldstein  had  lost  $400,  which  was  all 
the  money  he  had  with  him  that  evening. 
The  stranger  bade  them  all  a  pleasant  good- 
evening  and  disappeared. 

The  old  man  had  sat  by  the  table  that 
evening  with  a  blanched  face  and  saucer- 
like  eyes.  When  the  game  was  over  he 
said  :  "  I  am  very  sorry.  What  was  the 
trouble  ?  I  cannot  understand  it — that  you, 
so  fine  a  player,  should  lose." 

"  I  am  blessed  if  I  know,"  said  Goldstein. 
"  Sometimes  no  science  in  the  world  can 

I04 


A    BIRD    of    PREY 


beat  blind  pig-luck,  and  to-night  was  one 
of  those  cases.  Can  you  get  him  around 
to-morrow  night  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I'll  try  hard." 
"  Well,  you  bring  him  around.  I'll 
get  two  of  my  best  friends,  who  are  about 
as  clever  in  crooked  work  as  you  ever 
saw,  and  if  we  don't  win  our  money  back 
I'll  go  back  to  Blackwell's  Island  for 
sixty  days." 

The  next  evening  Goldstein  was  in 
the  saloon  on  time,  and  with  him  were 
two  birds  of  prey  as  sinister  as  himself. 
Half  an  hour  passed,  during  which  several 
drinks  were  consumed,  and  then  the  old 
man  entered  with  the  victor  of  the  preced 
ing  evening.  This  time,  luck  was  just  the 
reverse  of  the  night  before.  Within  one 
short  hour,  the  stranger  had  lost  the 
money  he  had  won  when  he  was  victor 
and  at  least  $700  besides.  He  then  rose, 
excused  himself,  and  said  that  he  would 

[  105  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


return  on  the  following  evening  for  re 
venge. 

The  commissions  were  paid  by  Gold 
stein,  and,  in  honor  of  their  successful 
coup,  a  jollification  was  had,  then  and 
there.  They  were  about  to  leave,  when 
the  old  man  said  : 

"  I  think  you  had  better  stay  a  little 
while,  because  I  expect  another  man  here 
who  is  just  as  good  as  the  one  we  had. 
He  may  be  talking  in  a  saloon  down  the 
street,  and  I  will  go  over  and  bring  him 
back  here/' 

"  Bravo,  old  boy,  you  are  a  trump," 
shouted  one  of  the  blacklegs,  clapping 
the  old  man  upon  the  shoulder.  Scarcely 
a  half  hour  had  passed  after  the  old  man 
had  gone  away,  when  the  door  opened 
and  four  men,  cleanly  shaven,  trimly 
built,  and  stern-looking,  entered  the  place, 
and  put  everyone  under  arrest.  The  pro 
prietor  looked  up. 

[  106  ] 


A    BIRD    of    PREY 


"  That's  all  right,  gentlemen.  You 
need  not  be  in  any  hurry.  I'll  telephone 
for  a  Judge  and  have  everyone  here  bailed 
in  fifteen  minutes.  You  need  not  think 
you  can  make  any  trouble  here  for  run 
ning  a  quiet,  gentleman's  game." 

"  I  don't  think  you  will,  my  friend," 
said  the  leader  of  the  party,  throwing 
back  the  lapel  of  his  coat  and  showing  a 
large  shield.  "  We  are  not  policemen, 
but  Secret-Service  men,  and  we  have  ar 
rested  you  for  making  and  passing  coun 
terfeit  money." 

The  captives  were  marched  to  the 
nearest  station-house  and  there  searched. 
Upon  each  and  all  was  found  some  well- 
executed,  counterfeit  money.  There  was 
consternation  among  them,  and  each  of 
the  precious  gang  thought  only  of  him 
self.  For  once  in  their  lives  they  told 
the  truth.  They  had  received  the  money 
from  Isaac  Goldstein,  while  Isaac  pro- 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


tested  that  he  had  won  it,  gambling, 
from  an  old  man,  utterly  unknown  to 
him. 

The  sergeant  of  police  gazed,  wearily, 
at  Goldstein  as  he  remarked  :  "  This  is 
no  case  of  mine,  but  if  I  were  you,  I 
would  not  talk  too  much.  It  will  not 
pay  you  to  prove  that  you  are  not  a  coun 
terfeiter  by  admitting  that  you  are  a  com 
mon  gambler." 

The  next  day  they  were  examined  be 
fore  a  commissioner,  and  all  were  dis 
charged  excepting  Goldstein.  To  increase 
his  torments,  the  waiter  and  the  bar-tender, 
to  whom  he  had  given  bad  bills,  also  made 
complaints  against  him.  At  the  follow 
ing  term  of  the  Court  he  was  tried  for 
passing  counterfeit  money,  and,  to  his  un 
speakable  horror,  was  found  guilty  by  an 
unsympathetic  jury.  As  he  was  being  led 
from  the  court-room,  in  the  Post-Office 
building,  to  the  anteroom  where  prisoners 
[  108  ] 


A    BIRD    of    PREY 


are  confined,  he  started  back.  There  was 
the  old  man  who  had  brought  the  victim 
to  him  that  had  been  his  undoing. 

"  That  was  a  fine  chap  you  brought  for 
us  to  work,"  sneered  the  prisoner. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  he  was/'  responded  the 
old  man.  "  He  is  a  professional  prestigi- 
ator — one  of  the  best,  I  think,  in  the 
country.  I  paid  him  $  i  oo  the  first  night, 
when  he  won  your  money,  and  $200  the 
second  night,  when  you  won  his,  and  the 
reason  I  did  it,  Goldstein,  was  a  very 
simple  one.  A  few  nights  before  that, 
you  enticed  my  son,  as  good  a  young  man 
as  ever  lived,  into  that  place.  You  gave 
him  enough  liquor  to  weaken  his  will 
power,  and  then  you  robbed  him  of  $250, 
which  represented  his  savings  for  three 
months.  I  have  got  the  money  back, 
Goldstein,  and  I  have  punished  the  crook 
who  came  near  starting  my  boy  upon  a 
downward  career.  I  bid  you  good-day/* 

[  I09  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


Mr.  Goldstein  promises,  when  he  has 
served  his  term,  that  he  will  never  em 
ploy  an  unknown  man  to  secure  victims 
for  his  card-table. 


bit 

Solomon  and  Santa  Claus 

SOLOMON  BELAK  was  a  newsboy. 
He  lived  not  far  from  Chatham 
Square  and  sold  papers  in  that  un- 
romantic  neighborhood.  His  name  did 
not  appeal  favorably  to  the  Irish-Ameri 
can  contingent  which  inhabits  that  district 
and  they  rechristened  him  Sullivan  Blake, 
so  that  while  theoretically  or  legally  he 
was  the  former,  yet  to  the  great  outside 
world  he  was  the  latter,  or,  to  be  accurate, 
he  was  simply  Sully  Blake.  To  be  a  news 
boy  in  Chatham  Square  is  not  an  easy 
matter.  The  struggle  for  existence  is 
severe,  and  every  new-comer  has  to  fight 
his  way  upward.  Sully  had  begun  his 
life's  work  when  but  five,  and  for  two 
years  had  had  a  hard  time,  but  he  was 
quick,  strong,  and  sturdy.  He  gave  a 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


blow  as  rapidly  as  he  received  one  and, 
thanks  to  the  friendship  of  a  little  col 
league,  Paddy  Conners,  he  developed  a 
knowledge  of  boxing  and  wrestling  that 
enabled  him  to  win  the  reputation  of 
being  a  very  promising  "  toy-scrapper." 
With  Jewish  shrewdness  he  had  culti 
vated  the  tradesmen  by  doing  them  little 
favors  from  time  to  time,  and  in  return 
had  built  up  a  good,  legitimate  trade.  He 
called  them  his  "  regulars,"  thereby  dis 
tinguishing  them  from  the  ordinary  cus 
tomers  he  secured  by  accosting  or  crying 
his  wares  aloud. 

Chatham  Square  is  a  boundary  of  China 
town,  and  the  almond-eyed  sons  of  Con 
fucius  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
boy  from  the  first.  By  degrees  he  formed 
several  acquaintances  among  the  Chinese 
shopkeepers,  and  picked  up  a  hundred 
words  or  more  (many  being  very  objec 
tionable),  which  gave  him  a  high  reputa- 

[112] 


SOLOMON  and  SANTA  CLAUS 

tion  for  vast  learning  among  the  other 
newsboys.  He  did  not  sell  many  papers  to 
the  Chinamen,  but  he  did  build  up  a  curi 
ous  industry.  It  was  to  read  to  them  Eng 
lish  letters,  and  address  envelopes  for  them 
when  they  were  corresponding  with  their 
own  people  in  this  country  or  in  China. 
In  this  way  Sully  made  more  money  than 
any  one  of  his  little  colleagues.  From 
the  "papes,"  as  he  called  the  newspapers, 
he  averaged  about  thirty-five  cents  a  day, 
and  from  the  Mongolians  as  much  more. 
This  little  income  enabled  him  to  be 
comparatively  independent  and  to  help 
support  his  widowed  mother. 

Mrs.  Belak  was  a  typical  Slovak.  Her 
husband  had  died  shortly  after  arriving 
in  this  country,  and  she  had  found  herself 
thrown  upon  the  world  without  any  cap 
ital  save  two  boys,  Solomon  and  his  older 
brother,  Lewis.  She  had  struggled  brave 
ly,  and  had  kept  the  wolf  from  the  door 

[  "3  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


by  sewing  fourteen  and  fifteen  hours  a 
day.  It  had  been  a  very  hard  fight,  and 
at  times  the  poor  soul  had  felt  like  laying 
down  her  work  and  letting  the  great  tide 
sweep  her  away  wheresoever  it  would. 
But  pride,  a  strong  character,  and,  above 
all,  the  maternal  instinct,  had  held  her 
at  the  post  of  duty,  and  she  had  kept 
on  unfalteringly.  Both  her  boys  had 
done  well,  so  far  as  boys  can  do.  Lewis, 
who  was  now  ten,  had  become  a  cash- 
boy  and  afterward  an  office-boy,  and 
was  now  earning  $3  a  week.  He  was  of 
a  different  mould  from  Sully,  being  slen 
der,  studious,  and  rather  sickly.  His  ap 
petite  was  poor,  and  perhaps  the  daily 
fare  of  the  family  was  badly  suited  to  his 
little  frame,  because  he  did  not  grow  in 
strength  and  stature  and  took  no  seeming 
interest  in  anything  save  his  mother, 
brother,  and  his  work.  Thus,  although 
Lewis  was  the  elder  and  wiser,  Sully 


SOLOMON    and    SANTA    C  L  A  u  s 

was  the  real  breadwinner  and  was  becom 
ing  the  head  of  the  house. 

Mrs.  Belak  tried  to  provide  for  the 
boy's  education  ;  in  the  evening  they 
went  to  a  Minder's  school,  where  they 
learned  a  little  Hebrew  and  less  English, 
and  on  Saturday  both  boys  attended  the 
synagogue.  Here  Lewis  was  a  regular 
attendant,  but  Sully,  on  account  of  the 
necessities  of  his  business,  was  obliged  to 
stay  away  on  most  of  the  Sabbaths.  This 
was  the  only  cloud  upon  the  mother's 
horizon.  The  idea  that  her  son  might 
grow  up  godless  filled  her  heart  with 
vague  fears.  Godlessness  she  knew  was 
but  a  step  from  dissipation  and  debauch 
ery,  these  from  vice  and  crime ;  and  be 
yond  them  was  the  station-house  and  the 
jail.  But  as  Sully  did  not  manifest  any 
irregularity  in  speech  or  conduct,  her 
fears  remained  unexpressed  and  to  a  cer 
tain  extent  decreased  as  the  weeks  and 

[  "5  J 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


months  rolled  away.  She  did  not  realize 
what  good  boys  they  were  until  one  time 
when  she  fell  sick  from  what  the  doc 
tor  diagnosed  as  a  mild  form  of  typhoid, 
but  what  in  reality  was  the  too  com 
mon  disease  which  ought  to  be  called  the 
New  York  tenement-house  fever,  a  disease 
which  lurks  in  every  foul  dwelling  where 
avaricious  landlords  crowd  200  beings 
into  little  dens  where  50  would  be  more 
than  enough  inmates. 

During  this  spell  Sully  arranged  matters 
so  that  he  was  home  nearly  all  the  day, 
while  Lewis  sat  up  with  her  from  the 
time  he  reached  the  house  after  business 
was  done  until  he  left  the  next  morning 
for  the  store  where  he  was  employed. 

In  November,  times  were  hard  in  that 
part  of  the  city  and  many  small  shops 
failed.  The  proprietors  asserted  that  they 
were  being  ruined  by  the  department- 
stores  ;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  change 
[116] 


SOLOMON  and  SANTA  GLAUS 

came  about  from  the  growth  of  the  city. 
Dwelling-houses  were  being  torn  down 
to  make  room  for  business-establishments, 
and  the  older  settlers  were  being  driven 
away  by  ever-increasing  armies  of  Italians 
and  foreigners,  who  patronize  other  places. 
Among  the  concerns  which  failed  was 
the  one  where  Lewis  was  employed. 
The  boy  was  bitterly  disappointed,  but 
his  mother  and  Sully  tried  to  console 
him.  He  started  out  the  next  day  to 
look  for  a  new  place,  and  spent  a  week  in 
going  from  store  to  store.  His  sickly 
appearance  told  against  him,  and  when 
Friday  night  came  he  was  so  heart-broken 
that  he  gave  out.  The  next  day  the 
mother  perceived  that  he  was  seriously 
sick  and  sent  for  a  doctor  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  The  physician  saw  at  a  glance 
that  the  trouble  was  partly  mental  and 
partly  the  result  of  poverty  and  its  en 
vironment,  and  prescribed  a  tonic  and  a 

[  "7] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


generous  diet.  He  did  the  best  he  knew 
how,  but  he  did  not  realize  that  a  gen 
erous  diet  was  almost  an  impossibility  to 
the  household.  Mrs.  Belak  endeavored 
to  follow  out  instructions.  When  her 
money  ran  short,  she  pawned  something 
or  other,  until  when  the  Christmas  season 
arrived  there  was  scarcely  anything  port 
able  left  in  their  three  poor,  little  rooms. 
It  did  not  affect  Sully  much,  because 
the  pawnshop  and  poverty  are  familiar 
twins  to  the  people  of  the  tenements. 
But  he  did  feel  apprehensive  as  to  the 
future.  He  worked  harder  than  ever 
and  increased  his  sale  so  that  he  made 
$i  a  day.  Yet  even  this  did  not  equal 
the  former  income  of  the  family  when 
both  boys  were  working.  And  there 
was  this  extra  expense  of  meats  and  other 
costly  articles.  The  night  before  Christ 
mas  Sully  had  just  sold  his  last  copy 
of  the  six-o'clock  evening  papers  and  was 
[  "8  ] 


SOLOMON    an d    SANTA    GLAUS 

debating  whether  it  would  pay  to  go 
down  to  Newspaper  Row  and  buy  another 
supply  or  not.  It  was  a  vile  night  and 
few  people  were  stirring.  He  said  to 
himself,  "  I  can  work  the  saloons,  but  so 
will  all  the  other  boys.  I  do  not  believe 
that  I  could  sell  more  than  eight  or  ten 
and  that  would  hardly  pay  me,  especially 
if  I  bought  twenty.  Still  less  is  there 
any  use  in  going  around  to  Chinatown, 
because  I  saw  all  my  regulars  this  after 
noon.  I  guess  I  had  better  go  home  and 
read  something  to  my  mother  or  tell  her 
stories  while  she  is  sewing." 

He  was  still  arguing  with  himself  when 
a  little  hand,  but  a  strong  one,  struck  him 
a  friendly  blow  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Hello,  Sully  !  Let's  go  round  and 
work  the  Santa  Claus  racket  !  " 

Sully  looked  up  and  saw  Paddy,  whose 
face  had  been  newly  washed,  his  hair 
combed,  and  his  clothes  nicely  brushed. 

[   "9  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


"  What's  that,  Paddy  ?     A  theatre  ?  " 

"  No  !  It  is  a  Christmas  show  around 
the  corner." 

"  What  do  they  do  ? " 

"Oh,  they  have  a  Christmas-tree  with 
candles,  candies,  and  oranges,  and  then  an 
old  bloke  who  is  made  up  with  a  red 
nose  and  white  whiskers  and  a  big  stom 
ach  comes  in  and  gives  things  to  all  the 
kids.  I  go  there  every  Christmas  and 
get  something.  It's  lots  of  fun.  They 
give  you  a  piece  of  paper  and  you  write 
down  three  or  four  things  that  you  want 
Santa  Claus  to  bring  you.  And  he  brings 
you  one  of  them,  if  it  does  not  cost  too 
much — I  think  his  limit  is  about  twenty 
cents.  Then  there  is  a  lot  of  singing 
and  speeches  and  praying.  But  I  never 
listen  to  that  because  I'm  a  Roman. 
That  reminds  me,  Sully,  you  are  a 
Sheeny.  I  do  not  know  as  you  can  get 
anything  from  Santa  Claus.  He  brings 


SOLOMON    and    SANTA    C  L  A  u  s 

things  to  Protestants  and  Romans,  but  I 
don't  think  he  brings  them  to  Sheenies. 
I  don't  know  why,  unless  it  is  that  Sheenies 
don't  have  any  saints,  anyhow.  Never 
mind,  though  ;  you  might  come  around 
and  get  an  orange  and  a  cake — and  it's 
very  warm,  and  there  are  some  nice  peo 
ple  there  from  uptown  who  don't  put 
on  lugs." 

The  two  urchins  went  round  to  a 
Christmas-tree  festival  at  a  mission  in 
Doyers  Street.  It  was  the  first  time  Sul 
ly  had  ever  attended  an  affair  of  this 
sort,  and  his  big  eyes  opened  wide  when 
he  entered  the  room.  It  was  filled  with 
girls  and  boys,  most  of  whom  he  knew 
by  sight.  Numerous  gas-lights  made  the 
place  bright,  and  a  great  Christmas-tree 
at  the  end  of  the  hall  seemed  a  mass  of 
glittering  jewels.  Some  twenty  well- 
dressed  men  and  women  conducted  the 
affair and  most  cheerful  of  all  was  a 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


huge  stove,  which  made  the  place  as  warm 
as  midsummer.  Some  one  was  talking 
as  they  entered,  but  Sully  did  not  listen 
to  the  words.  His  eyes  were  set  upon 
the  Christmas-tree,  which  seemed  to  him 
the  most  beautiful  thing  he  had  ever 
looked  upon. 

Then  as  he  grew  familiar  with  it  he 
noticed  that  the  colored  shapes  which 
dappled  the  green  leaves  were  things  good 
to  eat  or  to  wear ;  the  yellow  balls  were 
oranges  and  the  red  and  green  ones  apples. 
The  snowy  festoons  were  popcorn  and 
the  glittering  objects  were  candies  and 
confections.  There,  too,  were  cornu 
copias,  such  as  he  had  often  envied  in 
the  windows  of  the  little  shop  near  his 
house,  but  these  were  larger  and  hand 
somer  than  any  he  recalled.  There  came 
a  burst  of  music,  and  he  looked  over  at 
the  piano.  There  sat  a  young  woman 
who,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  very  pretty 


SOLOMON  and  SANTA  GLAUS 

and  well  dressed,  but  who  to  the  newsboy 
seemed  a  vision  of  loveliness.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  ever  been  near  a  well- 
bred,  fine-looking  woman,  handsomely 
dressed,  sitting  at  a  piano.  She  played 
well,  and  all  the  love  of  music  of  his  race 
was  stirred  within  him.  After  she  had 
finished  the  composition,  something  from 
the  German  composers,  she  sang  Adam's 
Christmas-song  in  a  way  that  brought  si 
lence  to  those  in  the  room  and  moved 
every  heart.  The  melody  of  the  song 
awoke  strange  echoes  in  the  boy's  soul ; 
the  place  faded,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
floating  amid  warm  clouds  over  a  land 
scape  of  marvellous  splendor. 

Then  there  came  an  address  which 
jarred  upon  his  nerves  terribly.  He  felt 
a  strange  relief  when  Paddy  nudged  him, 
and  said  : 

"  We'll  start  writing  a  letter  to  Santa 
Claus  now.  That  old  chap  does  the 

[  "3 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


talking  to  kill  time  while  Santa  Claus  is 
dressing  in  the  other  room." 

Paddy  produced  two  pieces  of  paper 
which  he  had  secured  in  some  shop  in 
the  neighborhood.  It  was  a  pale-yellow 
wrapping-paper,  but  its  surface  was  hard 
and  smooth  and  on  it  the  pencil  moved 
with  delightful  ease.  Paddy's  letter  to 
Santa  Claus  was  very  brief.  He  wanted 
a  pair  of  skates,  or  a  pocket-knife,  or  a 
book,  and  at  the  end  the  youngster's  heart 
found  expression  in  the  clause,  "  or  a  doll 
for  my  little  sister." 

Sully  wrote  very  slowly.  The  whole 
thing  was  strange  to  him  and  very  pleas 
ant,  but  back  of  the  pleasure  was  a  vague 
fear  that  something  wasn't  altogether 
right.  He  knew  he  was  a  Jew  and  that 
Santa  Claus  was  some  nice  person  or 
make-believe  that  belonged  to  another 
religion,  but,  whether  person  or  make- 
believe,  the  boy  was  uncertain  if  he  had 

[  124  ] 


SOLOMON  and  SANTA  GLAUS 

any  right  to  send  a  letter  to  the  saint. 
The  remark  of  Paddy  had  set  him  think 
ing  that  if  a  Roman  could  come  to  the 
place,  why  could  not  a  Jew  ?  Suddenly 
a  bright  thought  came  to  him  ;  he  would 
leave  the  matter  to  Santa  Claus  himself. 
Seizing  the  pencil  firmly,  he  wrote  the 
following : 

Dear  Sandy  Claws 

Please  bring  me  a  cloak  for  my 
mother  or  a  coat  for  my  brother  or  a 
steak  for  my  brother  or  some  eggs  for 
my  brother  or  a  job  for  my  brother 

when  he  gets  well 

SOLOMON  BELAK 
SULLIVAN  BLAKE 

and  then  he  added,  in  the  Hebrew  char 
acter,  "  I  am  a  Jew." 

He  thought  that  if  Santa  Claus  was  a 
spirit  he  could  read  Hebrew,  but  if  he 
was  only  a  man,  he  would  be  none  the 
wiser. 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


The  letters  were  collected  by  a  young 
lady  and  taken  to  the  post-office,  which 
consisted  of  a  little  window  in  the  door 
leading  into  the  next  room.  Here  they 
were  examined  by  the  postal-clerks,  who 
were  the  committee  conducting  the  af 
fair.  Paddy's  letter  was  answered  by  a 
knife,  which  was  placed  in  an  envelope 
with  Paddy's  name  upon  it.  Sully's  let 
ter  was  read  by  the  pianist.  She  gave  a 
sigh  as  she  read  it,  and  said  to  herself, 
"  Oh,  the  seas  of  trouble  down  in  this 
district/'  and  then  noticed  the  Hebrew 
characters  at  the  bottom  of  the  page. 

"  I  wonder  what  this  is,"  she  said.  "  It 
must  be  the  most  important  part  of  the 
letter."  Then,  speaking  aloud  to  the 
committee,  she  asked,  "  Is  there  anyone 
here  who  can  read  this  ?  " 

It  went  the  round  of  nearly  all  before 
it  reached  two  young  men,  friends  of  the 
pianist,  who  had  dropped  in  out  of  curi- 

L  126] 


SOLOMON  and  SANTA  CLAUS 

osity.  One  was  a  senior  from  Columbia 
University,  and  the  other  a  downtown 
lawyer.  They  looked  at  it,  puzzled  a 
moment,  and  then  broke  out  laugh 
ing. 

"  This  is  written  by  a  little  Russian- 
Jewish  boy,  and  it  is  easy  to  see  what  is 
going  on  in  his  mind.  There  is  sickness 
at  home,  his  brother  being  probably  the 
sufferer  and  being  also  out  of  a  job;  his 
mother  has  been  pawning  everything  in 
the  house,  and  he  has  come  here  in  the 
hope  of  getting  something  for  them.  He 
is  a  conscientious  young  rascal  and  is  afraid 
that  his  being  a  Jew  will  shut  him  out 
from  Santa  Claus's  good  offices.  By  the 
way,  he  calls  him  Sandy  Claws  as  if  he 
were  a  kind  of  a  crab,  and  then  the  young 
beggar  writes  in  Yiddish  to  prevent  any 
narrow-minded,  ignorant  man  from  read 
ing  what  he  says." 

There  was  a  narrow-minded,  ignorant 

[  127] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


man  on  the  committee,  who  disclosed 
himself  by  the  remark, 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  that  we  ought 
to  give  Christmas  presents  to  such  chil 
dren  ;  it  is  encouraging  them." 

The  pianist  looked  up  with  an  indig 
nant  laugh  : 

"  You  don't  mean  that.  If  there  be 
any  time  when  creeds  and  races  ought  to 
be  forgotten,  it  is  around  Christmas,  when 
everything  should  be  joy  and  light." 

The  lawyer  bowed,  whispered  to  his 
friend,  and  left  the  room.  He  was  back 
again  in  ten  minutes,  and  under  his  arm 
was  a  large  bundle  done  up  in  brown 
paper.  Upon  this,  written  in  a  bold  hand, 
were  the  two  names : 

SOLOMON  BELAK, 
SULLIVAN  BLAKE. 

When   Santa   Claus   came  out   from  the 

post-office    and    not  from    the  chimney, 

L  «8] 


SOLOMON  and  SANTA  GLAUS 

there  was  a  gasp,  a  moment  of  perfect  si 
lence,  and  then  a  series  of  yells  and  cat 
calls  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a 
madhouse.  His  make-up  was  just  about 
what  Paddy  had  described.  A  white  wig 
and  beard  made  a  halo  about  his  face, 
which  was  as  red  as  that  of  an  old  Knick 
erbocker,  and  his  waist,  owing  to  a  couple 
of  pillows,  was  fairly  aldermanic  in  pro 
portions.  When  he  began  to  read  off 
the  list  of  names  the  uproar  died  away 
as  if  by  magic,  and  every  child  sat  with 
a  look  in  which  expectancy,  joy,  fear, 
and  despair  were  inexplicably  mingled. 
One  pale,  little  Italian  girl  was  called  and 
received  a  box.  She  opened  it  and  saw 
a  doll,  a  book,  and  a  pair  of  stockings. 
These  were  the  three  things  she  had  speci 
fied  in  her  letter.  The  hot  blood  rushed 
to  her  face,  she  seized  the  doll  in  one 
hand,  kissed  it,  and  then  fainted  from 
sheer  delight. 

I29 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


When  it  came  to  Paddy's  turn,  he  ad 
vanced  with  the  tough  walk  and  the 
square-set  jaw  which  mark  the  child  of 
the  Bowery,  received  his  knife  with  a 
dignified  bow  and  with  the  pleasing  re 
mark,  "  Much  obliged,  Santa  Claus ;  there 
are  no  flies  on  you/'  and  came  back  to  his 
seat. 

Then  came  an  Italian  name,  a  Ger 
man  name,  and  a  Chinese  one.  Sully's 
heart  went  down  and  he  felt  certain  that 
he  would  not  receive  a  present  from  the 
kindly  saint.  Something  rose  up  in  his 
throat  and  he  would  undoubtedly  have 
left  the  room  but  that  his  name  was  called 
out  so  loudly  that  it  seemed  to  him  to 
sound  like  the  report  of  a  cannon.  He 
rose  and  walked  down  to  the  platform, 
his  heart  beating  strange  music  inside  of 
him. 

Santa  Claus  turned,  raised  the  huge 
bundle,  and  said,  in  a  different  tone  from 


SOLOMON  and  SANTA  GLAUS 


what  he  had  used  during  his  other 
speeches,  "  Here's  a  cloak  for  your  mother, 
my  boy,  and  a  coat  for  your  brother,  and 
I'll  send  the  eggs  and  beefsteaks  to-mor 
row." 

Sully  was  too  excited  to  speak.  He 
blushed,  stammered  inarticulately,  took 
the  heavy  package,  and  rejoined  Paddy. 
That  quick-eared  urchin  had  caught  the 
saint's  words  and,  first  punching  his  com 
panion  in  the  ribs,  asked,  affectionately, 
"  Say,  Sully,  ain't  he  great  ?  He  is  the 
best  thing  that  comes  down  the  pike." 

All  that  poor  Sully  could  do  was  to 
nod  his  head  and  to  grin  like  one  with 
the  toothache.  The  boys  sat  there  until 
the  exercises  were  over  and  the  fruits, 
cakes,  and  candies  had  been  distributed 
among  the  children.  Then,  laden  down 
and  happy,  they  sought  their  homes.  But 
with  Sully  strolled  the  Columbia  man 
and  the  lawyer,  who  left  him  at  the  door, 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


promising  they  would  call  there  on  the 
morrow.  They  kept  their  word  and 
called  there  several  times,  and  Santa  Claus 
sent  not  one  but  many  beefsteaks,  and 
enough  eggs  to  bring  back  the  color  to 
Lewis's  cheeks  and  the  strength  to  his 
poor  mother. 

It  was  about  the  i5th  of  January  that 
Lewis  got  out  and  was  able  to  go  about, 
and  a  few  days  afterward  he  began  a  new 
engagement  as  office-boy  in  the  lawyer's 
office  at  $3.50  a  week. 

Sully  is  still  selling  papers.  He  speaks 
seldom  of  the  Christmas-tree  to  any 
body  excepting  his  mother  and  brother. 
He  did  say  one  evening  to  Paddy  that, 
while  he  was  just  as  good  a  Sheeny  as 
ever,  he  thought  Santa  Claus  was  just  as 
much  a  Sheeny  as  a  Roman  or  a  Prot 
estant. 


4      f  f   f 

but 

The  God  of  His  fathers 

WHEN     Nature    framed    Israel 
Josephs,  she   seemed   to  have 
brought    his  soul   from  some 
long-distant  past  when  faith  and  conduct 
were   stronger  and   more   obdurate    than 
they  are  to-day.     The  body  was  that  of 
the  modern  age — attractive,  graceful,  and 
vigorous. 

He  came  to  New  York  to  find  the 
liberty  and  prosperity  which  were  barred 
from  him  by  law  and  custom  in  the  Old 
World  and  set  himself  resolutely  to  work. 
He  had  no  vices,  unless  it  might  be  the 
occasional  purchase  of  some  volume  of 
literature  and  the  dedication  of  several 
hours  a  day  to  study  which  might  have 
been  applied  to  labor.  He  prospered  with 
the  thrift  which  comes  from  a  healthy 

[133] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


mind  in  a  healthy  body.  He  mastered 
English  in  quick  time,  and  ere  he  had 
been  here  three  years  he  spoke  it  so  well 
as  to  be  taken  for  a  native  and  not  a  for 
eigner.  As  fortune  would  have  it,  he 
met  a  young  woman  and  fell  in  love. 
She  was  a  neighbor  and  helped  her  par 
ents  in  their  trade,  which  was  the  making 
of  artificial  flowers.  Aida  Berwin  was  a 
fair  type  of  the  East-Side  Jewess.  She 
had  all  the  virtues  of  her  race,  being  af 
fectionate,  industrious,  faithful,  and  up 
right.  Her  art  instincts  were  admirable, 
and  the  products  of  her  hands  found  a 
readier  sale  at  higher  prices  than  those  of 
her  parents.  She  was  very  pretty,  with 
the  large,  lustrous,  brown  eyes,  the  olive 
cheeks  where  the  red  blood  came  and 
went  in  waves,  the  blue-black  hair,  and 
the  exquisitely  rounded  figure  which 
mark  the  Separdim  of  Spain  rather  than 
the  Ashkenazim  of  Russia. 

[  134  ] 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

But  her  character  belonged  to  the 
modern  age.  She  enjoyed  music  and  the 
drama ;  she  liked  sight-seeing  and  danc 
ing  ;  she  appreciated  attention  and  admi 
ration.  When  she  found  that  she  had 
won  the  love  of  Israel,  she  was  overjoyed. 
She  had  admired  this  stern,  handsome 
man  from  the  first  time  she  had  seen  him. 
His  force  of  character,  his  high  integrity, 
his  refinement,  and  learning  had  appealed 
to  her  heart  and  to  the  instincts  of  her 
race.  To  Jewess  as  well  as  to  Jew,  there 
is  an  innate  reverence  for  ability  and 
learning,  deeper  and  more  intense  than 
that  felt  for  wealth  and  power.  The  Rab 
bi  precedes  the  merchant,  and  the  doctor 
outranks  the  millionaire.  The  fact  that 
Israel  was  a  successful  business-man,  that 
his  wealth  was  large  according  to  East- 
Side  standards,  and  his  credit  practically 
unlimited,  did  not  detract  from  his  value 
in  her  eyes  nor  in  those  of  her  relatives. 

[  135  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


The  courtship  was  long.  The  girl 
did  not  wish  to  give  up  her  liberty  nor 
to  close  the  door  upon  the  many  admirers 
who  laid  siege  to  her  heart.  At  the  same 
time,  there  was  a  slight  element  of  fear 
or  of  awe  deep  down  in  her  soul  in  re 
gard  to  this  favorite  suitor.  She  knew 
she  loved  him,  but  at  the  same  time  she 
realized  his  mental  and  spiritual  superi 
ority.  But  the  day  came  when  she  ac 
cepted  him  and  the  formal  engagement 
was  had.  The  betrothal-celebration  was 
a  social  triumph  in  Norfolk  Street,  and 
the  presents  from  the  bridegroom-to-be 
were  rich  and  many. 

Israel  was  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  de 
light.  If  his  character  was  strong,  so  was 
his  love.  In  the  pantheon  of  his  nature 
he  had  placed  the  image  of  the  girl  along 
side  of  those  of  duty,  right,  honor,  and 
worship.  A  week  had  not  elapsed  before 
little  differences  began  to  manifest  them- 

[  136] 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 


selves.  Aida  wanted  to  go  to  the  theatre 
to  see  some  society-drama;  Israel  had 
read  a  review  of  it,  in  which  it  was  heav 
ily  scored  as  verging  upon  the  improper, 
and  refused.  Had  he  been  politic  he 
would  have  explained  the  reason  of  his 
refusal,  but  to  his  mind  it  was  an  insult 
to  his  intelligence  to  bring  up  all  the  de 
tails  in  order  to  show  that  she  was  wrong 
and  he  was  right.  In  acting  this  way, 
he  believed  he  was  paying  her  a  compli 
ment,  but  she,  like  ordinary  New  York 
girls,  considered  that  he  was  arrogating  an 
authority  which  certainly  did  not  belong 
to  him  before  they  were  married.  Then, 
of  course,  the  thought  came  to  her,  that 
if  he  was  strict  and  arbitrary  before  mar 
riage,  what  would  he  not  be  afterward  ? 
She  recalled  a  family  next  door,  where 
the  husband  used  to  beat  his  wife  with 
great  regularity,  and  she  shook  her  pretty, 
little  head  with  dim  foreboding.  The 

[137] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


first  disagreement  was  followed  by  a  sec 
ond,  a  third,  and  many  others.  In  every 
case  it  was  the  same  trouble,  the  man's 
stern  conception  of  duty,  his  love  and 
reverence  of  Aida,  and  his  natural  habit 
of  doing  that  which  he  believed  to  be 
right.  The  day  finally  came  when,  to 
the  astonishment  of  the  neighborhood 
and  the  horror  of  the  relatives  of  both 
parties,  the  engagement  was  broken  off. 

Every  gossip  was  eager  to  find  out  the 
story  of  the  trouble,  but  little  satisfaction 
did  they  obtain.  Israel,  calm  and  digni 
fied,  glared  in  silence  at  the  first  question 
er,  and  to  the  second  gave  an  answer  so 
sharp  and  angry  as  to  dissuade  others 
from  attempting  the  same  course  of  ac 
tion.  Aida,  on  the  other  hand,  was  hys 
terical  and  took  all  the  blame  upon  her 
own  shoulders.  If  some  good  angel  could 
only  have  opened  the  eyes  of  the  two, 
the  estrangement  would  not  have  lasted  a 

[  138  3 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

half-hour.  There  are  good  angels  in  life, 
but  they  do  not  always  happen  around  at 
the  right  time,  and  in  the  love-affair  of 
Israel  and  Aida  no  spiritual  friend  ap 
peared  upon  the  scene.  Weeks  passed 
and  months,  and  finally  one  day  Aida,  it 
may  have  been  from  loneliness,  a  warm, 
affectional  nature,  or  despair,  married  one 
of  the  beaux  of  the  neighborhood.  The 
wedding  was  held  in  Zion  Hall,  on  East 
Broadway,  which  fashionable  assembly- 
room  was  packed  to  suffocation  by  the 
friends  of  the  contracting  parties.  Israel 
was  not  there,  and  although  the  bride 
groom,  partly  in  friendship  and  partly  in 
mischief,  had  sent  him  wedding-cards,  the 
only  answer  he  had  made  was  a  brief 
note  of  declination  and  a  little  wedding- 
present  of  considerable  beauty. 

The  newly  wedded  couple  went  to 
housekeeping  and  settled  not  far  from  the 
business-establishment  of  the  former  lover. 

[  139  J 


GHETTO     SILHOUETTES 


Time  passed  on  and  brought  its  changes. 
Two  children  blessed  the  union  of  Aida 
and  her  husband  Morris,  and  added  to  the 
other  cares  of  the  household  which  had 
come  into  being.  Morris,  popular  and 
debonair,  had  developed  a  love  of  drink, 
which  had  now  grown  upon  him  to  such 
an  extent  as  to  injure  him  both  socially 
and  commercially.  The  entreaties  of 
Aida  were  vain,  as  were  the  intercedings 
of  his  relatives.  He  was  on  the  down 
ward  path,  and  little  hope  seemed  to  be 
left  for  him.  Those  who  knew  him  well 
never  tired  of  referring  to  his  strange 
luck.  Time  and  again  the  policeman  on 
the  beat  would  help  him  home,  where  he 
would  carry  other  drunkards  to  the  sta 
tion-house.  When  arrested  for  inebriety 
a  reputable  lawyer  would  always  appear 
for  him,  and  his  fine  be  paid  by  some 
unknown  friend. 

By   degrees   the  rumor  spread  around 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

that  his  family,  although  they  had  dis 
owned  him,  were  still  trying  to  protect 
him  from  the  consequences  of  his  mis 
deeds. 

In  vain  they  denied  the  report.  They 
had  discarded  him  forever  and  he  was  a 
disgrace  to  their  race,  but  their  denials 
were  useless.  Who  else  could  have  any 
motive  for  befriending  him,  for  paying 
his  fines,  and  for  supplying  him  with  law 
yers,  doctors,  and  even  medicines? 

The  drunkard  got  so  low  finally  that 
Aida  was  forced  to  resort  to  the  pawn 
shop.  Twice  she  had  gone  to  raise 
money  in  this  way  when  she  received  a 
letter  from  a  lawyer  downtown,  notifying 
her  that  under  the  provisions  of  a  trust 
created  by  a  distant  relative  she  was  to 
receive  thereafter  the  sum  of  $8  a  week. 
The  news  took  her  breath  away.  She 
hurried  to  the  lawyer's  office  in  quest  of 
information.  The  professional  man,  a 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


dignified,  white-haired  member  of  the 
Bar,  gave  her  but  little.  He  would  en 
deavor,  however,  to  obtain  authority  to 
disclose  all  the  facts  in  the  matter,  but 
until  that  was  done  he  was  compelled 
through  professional  etiquette  to  keep 
silent  on  the  subject.  He  could  tell  her 
that  the  client  who  had  created  the  trust 
was  a  distant  relative,  who  was  interested 
in  her  and  her  children,  but  did  not 
care  to  have  his  name  employed  lest  he 
should  be  overrun  by  beggars. 

The  little  income  worked  good  and 
evil.  It  kept  away  the  shadow  of  starva 
tion,  but  it  encouraged  the  evil  habits  of 
Morris,  who  no  longer  was  deterred  by 
the  fear  of  the  suffering  of  his  family. 
Once,  when  crazy  for  liquor,  he  robbed 
his  wife  of  her  weekly  stipend,  and  for 
three  days  there  was  nothing  to  eat  in  the 
house.  On  the  third  day  the  grocer's  man 
entered  the  place,  bringing  with  him  a 

[  142  ] 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

supply  of  food  so  generous  as  to  last  them 
a  week.  On  another  occasion  Morris  stole 
the  rent-money  his  wife  had  put  aside, 
and  dispossess  proceedings  were  brought 
by  the  landlord.  The  legal  notice  had 
not  been  nailed  upon  the  door  more  than 
six  hours,  when  the  marshal  appeared, 
apologized  obsequiously  for  the  disquiet 
ing  paper,  declared  that  some  serious  mis 
take  had  been  made,  and  went  away  with 
the  document.  When  he  left  the  house 
he  stopped  a  few  doors  below,  at  the  office 
of  Israel,  where  he  was  seen  to  receive 
a  roll  of  bills,  but  as  Israel  now  owned 
several  tenement-houses  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  the  fact  occasioned  no  comment. 

Rumor  is  very  busy  on  the  East  Side, 
and  it  was  no  longer  the  luck  of  Morris 
that  was  spoken  about,  but  the  luck  of 
Aida. 

In  summer,  if  there  was  a  children's 
excursion,  there  were  always  tickets 

[143] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


brought  to  her  by  some  agent  of  the  af 
fair.  When  the  sanitarium  opened  at 
Rockaway,  she  and  her  little  ones  were 
the  first  to  be  invited  and  go  down 
there.  They  were  induced  to  remain  six 
weeks  where  ordinary  inmates  are  allowed 
to  stay  but  one.  Strange  men  in  the 
neighborhood  presented  the  children  with 
toys  and  books,  fruit  and  flowers,  until  it 
did  seem  as  if  the  luck  of  the  mother 
had  been  extended  to  her  children  as  well. 
When  there  was  an  epidemic  in  the 
neighborhood  her  tenement  was  the  first 
to  be  cleaned,  disinfected,  and  put  in 
thorough  repair.  Her  landlord  was  no 
toriously  mean,  and  great  was  the  astonish 
ment  of  the  inmates  of  the  house  when, 
instead  of  ordinary  repairs,  the  miserly 
owner  almost  rebuilt  the  interior  of  the 
huge  building  and  supplied  it  with  every 
improvement  known  to  the  model  tene 
ment. 

[  H4  ] 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

When  the  oldest  child  was  five,  Aida 
had  a  call  from  the  teacher  of  a  kinder 
garten,  who  asked  her  to  send  the  two 
children  to  the  school.  The  teacher 
blushed  and  hesitated  as  she  said  that  she 
was  just  starting  the  affair  and  if  Aida 
would  send  the  children  she  would  take 
them  for  a  nominal  sum,  in  order  to  have 
the  nucleus  of  a  class.  It  was  what  Aida 
had  been  praying  for,  and  she  acceded 
gladly.  The  luck  followed  the  school. 
No  such  kindergarten  had  ever  been 
known  before  on  the  East  Side.  There 
were  games  and  toys,  and  every  child  had 
its  own,  which  were  supplied  by  the 
school.  Model  meals  were  served  so 
dainty  that  the  scholars  preferred  to  eat 
in  the  class-rooms  rather  than  at  home. 
An  extraordinary  system  of  prizes  for 
scholarship  was  instituted,  so  that  the  little 
folks  were  perpetually  bringing  home 
books  and  pictures,  gloves  and  collars, 

[  '45  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


handkerchiefs  and  toys.  How  the  teacher 
could  afford  it  all  was  a  puzzle  to  the 
neighborhood.  They  concluded,  finally, 
that  she  was  a  wealthy  crank  who  posed 
as  a  kindergartner  in  order  to  conceal  her 
true  character  as  a  philanthropist. 

Poor  Morris  went  from  bad  to  worse. 
He  became  a  corner-lounger,  a  bar-room 
loafer  and  brawler,  and  finally  a  sodden 
drunkard.  Her  friends  advised  Aida  to 
separate  from  him,  but  she  was  too  proud 
to  publish  her  troubles  to  the  world. 
Besides  this,  the  sorrows  of  her  life  had 
changed  her  character  and  converted  her 
from  a  somewhat  frivolous  girl  into  a 
thoughtful,  self-sacrificing  woman.  She 
realized  the  great  mistake  she  had  made, 
and  determined  that  she  would  do  the 
duty  which  her  own  actions  had  imposed 
upon  her.  It  may  be  that  she  was  in 
spired  to  some  extent  by  the  constant 
sight  of  Israel,  whom  she  saw  every  now 

[  146 .1 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

and  then  upon  the  street  or  in  his  office 
as  she  went  by.  He  always  treated  her 
with  the  greatest  courtesy,  and  to  the 
children  had  become  a  second  father. 
When  the  kindergarten  was  out  and  they 
did  not  arrive  at  home  in  time,  she  knew 
well  that  they  were  visiting  her  former 
lover  in  his  office,  and  that  they  would 
return  in  due  season,  bearing  always  some 
little  token  of  affection.  Once  when  the 
oldest  boy  had  fallen  in  the  street  and 
coated  himself  with  mud  and  water,  Israel 
had  promptly  undressed  him,  bathed  him, 
and  supplied  him  with  a  new  suit  of 
clothing  and  hat  and  boots  to  match. 

In  October  Morris  came  home  about 
nine  o'clock  one  evening  in  a  condition 
which  was  worse  than  usual.  He  was 
drunk,  and  he  was  also  ugly  and  quarrel 
some.  Insidiously  liquor  had  under 
mined  the  man's  character,  spiritually  as 
well  as  physically.  The  blithe-hearted- 

[   H7  1 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


ness  of  the  bridegroom  had  departed  by 
degrees,  and  had  been  replaced  by  the 
nervous  irritability  and  savage  nature  of 
the  drunkard.  Something  occurred  when 
he  was  in  the  dining-room  of  their  apart 
ment  which  angered  him.  What  it  was, 
no  one  ever  knew.  He  was  alone, 
and  Aida  was  sewing  in  the  parlor. 
She  heard  him  stagger  about,  stumbling 
against  chair  or  table,  and  then  curse  in 
maudlin  rage.  Then  came  the  crash  of 
breaking  glass,  followed  by  a  wild, 
drunken  yell  for  help.  It  was  not  an 
unusual  sound,  and  she  did  not  hurry  from 
her  task  as  she  had  done  when  these 
sounds  first  occurred.  But  when  she  had 
gone  down  the  long  hall  to  the  dining- 
room,  her  heart  rose  up  in  her  mouth. 
The  glass  which  had  been  broken  was 
the  big  lamp  which  had  been  given  to 
her  as  a  wedding-gift,  and  the  oil,  spilled 
in  every  direction,  had  converted  the 

[  H8  ] 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

room  into  a  blazing  furnace.  She  ran 
back  to  the  bedroom  to  awaken  the  chil 
dren,  pulled  them  from  the  bed,  and  then 
started  for  the  door.  There  was  only 
one  door  in  the  tenement  which  opened 
from  the  private  hall  into  the  main  hall. 
As  she  approached,  the  flame  and  smoke 
were  sweeping  toward  her,  and  she  saw 
that  the  avenue  of  escape  was  cut  off. 
The  iron  fire-escape  was  in  the  rear  of 
the  building,  and  that,  too,  was  useless. 
In  her  frenzy  she  turned  and  dashed  to 
the  windows,  threw  up  the  sash,  and  called 
wildly  for  aid. 

The  house  was  old,  and  the  flames 
spread  rapidly.  A  crowd  collected,  and 
not  far  away  was  heard  the  thunder  of 
the  fire-engines  as  they  came  speeding 
down  the  streets  leading  toward  the  house. 
Smoke  was  filling  the  room,  and  Aida, 
with  a  mother's  thoughtfulness,  tied  wet 
towels  around  the  mouths  of  the  children 

[  149  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


and  her  own,  so  as  to  prevent  suffoca 
tion. 

When  would  the  engines  come  ? 
When,  above  all,  would  the  fire-ladder 
be  raised  ? 

Suddenly  there  came  a  crash.  The 
window  alongside  of  the  one  where  she 
was  standing  was  shivered  into  fragments, 
and  a  man  came  through  amid  the  break 
ing  glass  and  half  fell  upon  the  floor.  He 
had  cut  himself,  and  blood  was  streaming 
from  his  face  and  hands.  Something 
within  her  heart  told  her  who  it  was  be 
fore  she  turned  her  head.  When  she 
looked  at  the  man  it  was  Israel. 

He  had  a  coil  of  rope  over  his  arm, 
and  swiftly  tied  it  around  the  body  of  the 
oldest  boy  and  lowered  him  from  the 
window,  which  was  on  the  fourth  floor, 
down  to  the  ground.  A  great  cheer 
came  up  from  the  crowd,  which  loosened 
the  rope,  and  still  greater  ones  came  when 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

the  second  child  and  the  mother  were 
lowered  likewise. 

There  had  been  a  dispute  in  the 
room  between  the  man  and  the  woman. 
Israel  had  wanted  to  lower  her  first,  but 
she  had  refused  and  had  put  the  rope 
herself  around  the  chest  of  the  oldest 
boy. 

The  engines  were  now  at  work,  and 
streams  of  water  were  flowing  into  the 
building  from  front  and  rear.  Every 
where  was  smoke  and  everywhere  the 
dull,  horrible  noise  of  a  fire  in  a  living 
house.  Why  did  not  Israel  come  ?  What 
was  the  trouble  ? 

The  fire-ladders  now  shot  up,  and  the 
firemen  sprang  through  the  windows  into 
the  apartment.  A  minute  or  two  passed, 
and  then  they  reappeared  at  the  windows 
bringing  two  men  in  their  arms  through 
the  smoke.  These  were  lowered  to  the 
ground,  where  Aida  stood  trembling  with 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


anxiety  and  horror.  A  fireman  who 
came  down  the  ladder  said : 

"  One  of  them  has  croaked.  The 
other  one  came  near  it.  He  was  a  fool 
and  tried  to  save  the  dead  man." 

Aida  gave  a  gasp  and  fainted.  It  was 
as  the  fireman  had  said.  Morris  had  per 
ished  in  the  fire  caused  by  his  own  drunk 
en  hands,  and  Israel  had  been  severely 
burned  in  trying  to  save  him. 

It  was  several  weeks  before  Israel  re 
covered.  During  that  time  he  was  the 
idol  of  the  East  Side.  Old  and  young 
called  at  his  house  night  and  day  and 
fairly  wearied  the  servant  and  the  nurse 
with  their  affectionate  importunities. 

Very  few  were  permitted  to  see  him, 
but  among  these  were  Aida  and  the  two 
children.  When  she  approached  the  bed 
where  the  sufferer  lay,  one  hand  hung  out 
over  the  coverlid.  Aida  was  unable  to 
speak.  She  fell  upon  her  knees,  seized 

[  152] 


THE    GOD    of    His    FATHERS 

the  hand,  which  was  painfully  white  and 
thin,  and  covered  it  with  kisses  and  tears. 

Israel's  body  never  moved,  but  the 
hand  slowly  left  her  lips  and  caressed  her 
forehead  and  cheek.  The  woman  drew 
back,  seized  the  hand  again,  kissed  it  re 
peatedly,  and  cried  : 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,  if  you  can  forgive 
me  !  I  am  a  very  poor,  weak  woman  and 
you  are  the  noblest  man  in  the  world.  I 
have  never  said  anything,  but  I  have 
known  all  the  time  who  has  saved  me 
and  my  children,  who  has  made  our  lives 
happy,  and  who,  best  and  noblest  of  all, 
tried  to  save  Morris  from  himself  and 
even  from  the  fiery  death  which  he 
brought  upon  his  own  head/' 

The  hand  became  strong  and  ended 
the  speech  by  clasping  her  lips.  She 
kissed  it  again  and  again,  until  the  nurse 
whispered  to  her,  when  she  left. 

Israel's  store  is  larger  now  and  he  lives 

f  153  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


in  a  fine  residence  far  up  near  the  Park. 
There  are  four  children  in  his  family, 
two  of  whom  are  very  young,  and  the 
mother,  Aida,  beneath  a  calm  and  beauti 
ful  face,  has  about  the  happiest  soul  that 
can  be  found  upon  Manhattan  Island. 


[   '54  ] 


The  Ruin  of  a  Schatcben 


I 


Abraham  Abrahams  was 
the  most  successful  Schatchen  of 
the  East  Side  was  admitted  by 
envious  rivals.  His  pleasant  manners  and 
rare  tact  enabled  him  to  be  of  invaluable 
service  to  Dan  Cupid,  while  his  tireless 
energy  put  him  in  possession  of  informa 
tion  which  was  of  inestimable  value  in 
bringing  about  thrifty  marriages.  It 
takes  talent  of  considerable  extent  to  suc 
ceed  in  the  ancient  and  honorable  calling 
of  Schatchen,  or  matrimonial  agent.  This 
is  true  in  Russia  and  Austria,  where  the 
business  is  time-honored  and  respected ;  it 
is  much  more  so  in  New  York,  where  both 
Gentiles  and  American  Jews  are  opposed 
to  the  calling,  from  some  strange  preju 
dice  inexplicable  to  the  European  mind. 

[  '55  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  said  Abra 
ham,  one  day,  "  why  it  is  that  these 
Americans,  regardless  of  race  and  religion, 
should  laugh  at  my  business.  They  are 
almost  mad  in  their  opinions  respecting 
young  men  and  young  women.  So  far 
as  the  sexes  are  concerned,  every  wise 
man  knows  that  a  boy  is  a  fool  and  a  girl 
a  Bedlamite.  They  see  each  other,  blush, 
squeeze  hands,  and  rush  off  and  get  mar 
ried  without  the  slightest  thought  as  to 
the  future.  No  regard  for  business !  No 
respect  for  institutions !  No  thought  of 
that  which  is  more  important  than  love, 
namely,  hard  cash  !  If  I  had  my  way,  I 
would  declare  all  marriages  illegal  unless 
they  were  transacted  through  the  office  of 
a  Schatchen.  I  married  my  friend  Isaac 
Bierbohm,  who  had  $8,000,  to  Minnie 
Gadsky,  who  had  $5,000,  and  to-day  they 
must  be  worth  $25,000,  and  have  five 
children  besides.  Now,  if  I  had  not  mar- 

[  '56] 


THE    RUIN    of   a    SCHATCHEN 

ried  them,  that  fool-damsel  would  have 
wedded  young  Greenberg,  who  has  not  a 
penny,  and  the  husband  would  have  es 
poused  some  fashionable  girl  that  would 
have  made  his  life  a  burden." 

Abraham's  soliloquy  was  interrupted 
by  a  visitor.  This  was  a  lady  of  uncer 
tain  age,  the  uncertainty  being  as  to 
whether  she  was  over  or  under  thirty-five. 
She  was  not  ill-favored,  nor  could  she  be 
called  handsome.  Neatly  dressed,  and 
pleasant-spoken,  she  gave  the  impres 
sion  of  belonging  to  a  well-to-do  family 
and  of  having  had  the  advantages  of  edu 
cation  and  polite  intercourse.  Introducing 
herself  as  Miss  Rebecca  Slatsky,  she  said : 

"  I  have  come,  Mr.  Abrahams,  to  en 
gage  you  professionally  to  secure  a  hus 
band.  I  am  tired  of  single  life  and  have 
been  willing  to  marry  for  several  years, 
but  I  have  been  unable  to  get  the  right 
man.  The  few  that  seek  me  turn  out  to 

[  157] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


be  worthless,  while  those  that  may  have 
been  good  mates  did  not  agree  with  my 
tastes.  My  family  are  quite  well-to-do, 
but  I  have  almost  nothing  in  my  own 
right.  I  have  accumulated  nearly  a 
thousand  dollars,  and  if  you  can  get  me  a 
really  good  husband  I  am  willing  to  pay 
you  $500. " 

Mr.  Abrahams  heart  rose  up  in  his 
throat  at  this  announcement,  and  he  in 
wardly  determined  that  he  would  gratify 
her  wishes,  if  he  had  to  call  upon  every 
unmarried  man  on  the  East  Side. 

"  I  am  both  sorry  and  glad,"  continued 
the  lady,  "  that  I  have  not  more  money, 
because  I  realize  that  a  happy  marriage 
to  a  woman  of  my  years  must  depend 
largely  upon  a  good  business  foundation. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  I  had  wealth,  I 
should  always  have  a  lurking  fear  that  a 
suitor  was  looking  for  my  money  and  not 
for  me." 

[  '58  ] 


THE    RUIN    of   a    SCHATCHEN 

"  Your  sentiments,  Miss,  are  very  cred 
itable,"  responded  Abrahams,  bowing  to 
his  client,  "  and  ought  to  be  those  of 
every  member  of  your  sex.  Women  prac 
tise  so  many  deceptions,  I  assure  you,  that 
it  fills  my  heart  with  delight  to  hear  you 
enunciate  such  noble  principles.  Have  you 
any  preference  in  regard  to  husbands?" 

The  woman  looked  at  the  ceiling  for 
a  moment,  and  then  said,  slowly  :  "  Of 
course,  I  have  my  dreams  and  my  ideals, 
which  I  do  not  expect  to  realize  in  this 
life.  I  should  be  satisfied  with  a  good 
man  who  could  support  me  comfortably 
and  who  would  be  the  head  of  our  little 
household.  He  must  be  sufficiently  edu 
cated  and  polite  to  be  presented  to  my 
family,  and  must  be  orthodox  in  his  faith. 
These  are  the  only  conditions  which  I  in 
sist  upon,  and  I  leave  all  the  rest  to  you." 

Mr.  Abrahams  made  the  regular  for 
mal  inquiries  as  to  her  residence,  family, 

[  159  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


relatives,  and  references,  and  then,  notify 
ing  her  that  he  would  report  within  four 
or  five  days,  escorted  her  to  the  door  of 
his  bureau  and  bowed  her  to  the  head  of 
the  stairs. 

That  very  afternoon  he  started  out  to 
verify  her  statements,  and  before  an  hour 
had  passed  had  learned  enough  to  con 
vince  him  that  her  declarations  were 
true.  He  also  learned  a  number  of  facts 
which  set  him  to  thinking.  One  refer 
ence,  a  quiet,  business  man  who  had  a 
store  on  Eighth  Avenue,  spoke  very  high 
ly  of  Rebecca,  and  then  added,  "  She  is  a 
very  queer  woman.  She  has  a  morbid 
fear  of  fortune-hunters.  I  do  not  believe 
she  is  poor  at  all.  Her  people  are  very 
well-ofF  and  I  know  that  she  has  more 
than  $5,000.  I  once  saw  three  bank 
books  in  her  satchel,  and  they  were  so 
well  worn  that  I  knew  she  must  have 
made  a  great  many  deposits.  When  I 
[  160] 


THE    RUIN    of   a    SCHATCHEN 

joked  her  about  it,  she  flushed  up,  and 
said  she  only  had  $50  in  each  bank,  but 
from  her  nervousness  and  her  keeping 
her  eyes  away  from  mine,  I  knew  that 
she  was  concealing  the  truth/' 

At  the  house  of  a  second  reference  was 
an  old  woman  who  had  known  Rebecca 
and  her  family  for  many  years,  both  in 
this  country  and  at  home  in  Russia. 

"  She  is  a  very  fine  girl,"  exclaimed 
the  old  woman,  "  but  she  is  very  foolish. 
She  has  refused  a  great  many  offers  mere 
ly  because  she  thought  the  men  were 
after  her  money ;  in  fact,  she  told  me  so 
herself.  Now,  why  should  a  woman  re 
fuse  a  man  because  he  wants  his  wife  to 
have  money  ?  It  shows  that  he  is  wise 
and  will  be  a  good  husband.  And  why 
should  Rebecca  refuse  a  man  for  that  rea 
son,  unless  she  had  money  ?" 

That  evening  Abraham  thought  the 
matter  over.  He  smiled  to  himself  as  he 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


followed  up  the  clews  of  the  day.  This 
new  client  was  a  dreamer,  like  most  Jew 
ish  women,  and  was  also  romantic.  She 
must  have  considerable  money  put  by,  and 
she  was  concealing  this  very  important 
fact  from  her  marriage-broker.  Here 
was  an  opportunity  to  get  not  only  the 
fat  fee  promised  by  Rebecca  herself,  but 
to  obtain  a  second  and  larger  one  from 
someone  who  was  in  need  of  ready  cash 
in  his  business.  He  knew  a  dozen  men, 
bright,  pleasant,  and  ambitious,  who 
wanted  wives  badly,  but  needed  money 
more,  and  any  one  of  them  would  pay  him 
an  enormous  commission  to  secure  an 
available  life-partner  with  a  handsome 
bank-account.  Conscience  told  him  to 
beware  and  not  go  outside  of  his  instruc 
tions,  but  the  prospect  of  a  brilliant  busi 
ness-stroke  was  too  fascinating  for  him  to 
listen  to  the  small  voice. 

The   next   day  he  called  upon  five  or 

[  '62  ] 


THE    RUIN    of   a    SCHATCHEN 

six  men  and,  without  using  any  name, 
spoke  of  a  client  who  had  considerable 
wealth  and  desired  to  wed. 

Each  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  be 
presented  to  Rebecca  the  moment  he 
heard  the  story.  He  wrote  to  his  client 
that  he  would  be  pleased  to  introduce  sev 
eral  aspirants  to  her,  either  at  his  office 
or  at  her  house.  She  replied  promptly 
by  mail  that  she  would  rather  meet  them 
at  his  office,  as  she  did  not  want  her  rela 
tives  to  know  of  the  affair.  Abrahams, 
after  reading  the  note,  looked  carefully 
at  the  paper.  It  was  very  stylish  station 
ery,  and  the  handwriting  was  that  of  a 
well-educated  person.  He  shook  his 
head  smilingly  and  said,  "  You  are  a  smart 
woman,  Rebecca !  You  almost  fooled 
old  Abraham  Abrahams  with  your  talk 
about  fortune-hunting  and  poverty.  If  I 
had  not  a  wife  and  twelve  children  I 
would  marry  you  myself." 

f 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


The  first  engagement  was  duly  made, 
and  on  the  appointed  day  Rebecca  called. 
She  made  a  pleasant  figure  as  she  swept 
into  the  bureau.  She  was  well-dressed 
and  bore  all  the  marks  of  attention  to 
personal  welfare.  In  her  hand  was  a 
neat  satchel,  which  she  laid  on  Abra 
hams^  desk. 

"  Has  the  man  arrived  yet  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  he  has  been  here  fifteen  min 
utes,"  was  the  Schatchen's  reply.  "  If  you 
are  ready,  I  will  go  in  and  make  you  ac 
quainted.  I  think  the  first  visit  should 
be  short,  just  to  break  the  ice.  I  would 
not  make  it  less  than  fifteen  minutes,  nor 
more  than  half  an  hour.  I  have  noticed 
where  it  is  too  short,  the  men  think  the 
woman  is  nervous  and  ill-tempered,  and 
where  it  is  too  long  they  think  she  is 
stupid  and  lazy." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr. 
Abrahams.  I'll  take  twenty  minutes ; 

[  '64  ] 


THE    RUIN    of   a    SCHATCHEN 

and  I  am  very  glad  to  learn  this  valuable 
point." 

Then  Rebecca  was  introduced  to  Jacob 
Rosen,  and  was  left  alone  with  the  would- 
be  suitor. 

Mr.  Abrahams  returned  to  his  desk 
and  sat  there  musing.  His  eyes  rested 
upon  Rebecca's  satchel,  which  was  a 
stylish  affair  in  alligator-skin,  mounted 
in  silver.  He  felt  a  strong  temptation  to 
open  it,  and  his  hand  touched  the  spring 
almost  involuntarily.  The  persons  in 
the  next  room  were  talking  in  low  tones, 
and  he  knew  that  if  they  rose  he  could 
hear  them  without  difficulty.  He  pressed 
the  little  spring,  half-fearful  that  the 
satchel  was  locked.  But  it  was  not ;  the 
mouth  sprang  open,  and  the  interior  was 
visible. 

He  saw  a  bunch  of  keys,  a  pretty 
memorandum-book,  a  bank-book,  and  a 
large  pocket-book.  Abrahams  turned  and 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


looked  at  the  door.  The  persons  were 
still  talking,  and  the  tones  of  their  voices 
told  him  that  Rosen,  who  was  a  very 
entertaining  man,  had  succeeded  in  inter 
esting  his  vis-a-vis.  He  knew  there  was 
no  danger  of  any  sudden  interruption,  and, 
with  a  quick  movement  of  his  hand,  re 
moved  the  bank-book,  and  in  a  second 
had  read  its  contents.  He  raised  his  eye 
brows  slightly  as  he  perused  the  page. 
"$3,200  in  the  Bowery  Bank?  I  was 
perfectly  right.  That  woman  is  a  crank 
on  the  subject  of  fortune-hunting,  and 
she  has  got  money,  and  lots  of  it." 

He  replaced  the  bank-book  and  turned 
his  attention  to  the  porte-monnaie.  In 
this  there  were  small  change  and  a  piece 
of  court-plaster.  He  was  about  to  re 
turn  it  when  he  noticed  that  there  was 
something  in  the  private  compartment. 
This  he  opened  and  found  a  letter  from 
the  banking-house  of  Seligman  &  Co. 
[  1 66  ] 


THE    RUIN    of   a    SCHATCHEN 

It  was  a  brief,  business  communication 
notifying  Miss  Rebecca  Slatsky  that  the 
enclosed  check  was  a  quarterly  dividend 
upon  the  stock  held  by  her.  The  check 
was  for  $552. 

A  slight  rustle  in  the  adjoining  room 
caused  him  to  return  the  pocket-book  to 
the  satchel.  He  shook  his  head,  and  then 
with  his  pencil  wrote  figures  upon  a  piece 
of  paper. 

A  quarterly  dividend  of  $552  repre 
sented  an  annual  one  of  $2,200.  This 
at  three  per  cent.,  the  market-rate  of  in 
vestments,  meant  at  least  $75,000.  The 
poor  old  maid  in  the  next  room  had 
cozened  him  beyond  all  expression.  She 
was,  in  fact,  the  richest  heiress  for  whom 
he  had  ever  done  business.  It  was  clear 
he  must  get  rid  of  Mr.  Rosen,  because 
that  man  had  promised  an  extra  com 
mission  of  only  $100.  $75,000?  That 
ought  to  bring  him  a  commission  of  at 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


least  $10,000.  Abrahams  was  a  quick 
thinker,  and  within  the  next  ten  minutes 
he  had  sketched  out  a  brilliant  plan  of 
campaign. 

The  interview  came  to  an  end  and 
Abrahams  escorted  Rebecca  to  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  where  he  bade  her  good- 
day.  He  said  on  parting: 

"  Do  not  make  your  mind  up  yet,  be 
cause  I  have  two  or  three  other  very  ex 
cellent  aspirants,  from  whom  you  can 
make  your  choice." 

His  client  thanked  him,  and  de 
parted. 

In  the  next  two  weeks  several  suitors 
were  presented  to  Rebecca,  but  the  one 
who  found  most  favor  was  Solomon  Burn- 
ham,  who  had  a  large  store  on  East 
Broadway.  When  Solomon  began  busi 
ness  his  name  was  Bernheim,  but  social 
reasons  induced  him  to  translate  the  Ger 
man  into  English  and  so  make  a  good 
[  '68  ] 


THE    RUIN    of    a    SCRATCH  EN 

aristocratic,  American  name.  The  mar 
riage-engagement  was  finally  announced. 
No  suitor  could  have  been  more  atten 
tive  and  devoted.  No  mercenary  mar 
riage  ever  had  a  smaller  suggestion  of 
pecuniary  motive.  It  may  have  been  due 
to  the  high  spiritual  nature  of  Mr.  Burn- 
ham.  It  may  have  been  due  to  several 
conversations  which  Mr.  Burnham  had 
had  with  Abrahams.  One  thing  is  cer 
tain.  Mr.  Abrahams  received  a  large 
cash-fee  in  advance,  and  also  a  well- 
endorsed  promissory  note  payable  two 
days  after  the  wedding. 

The  nuptials  came  off  with  considera 
ble  eclat.  For  a  bride  who  was  penni 
less,  it  certainly  was  a  notable  event. 
Her  relatives  made  many  handsome  pres 
ents,  while  those  of  the  bridegroom,  his 
kindred,  and  friends,  were  enough  to  stock 
a  small  store.  There  was  a  brief  honey 
moon,  which  was  to  have  been  a  month, 

[  169] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


but  it  lasted  only  four  days,  and  it  culmi 
nated  in  a  scene  which  was  the  talk  of 
the  East  Side  for  many  days. 

Mr.  Abrahams  was  sitting  in  his  office 
at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  From 
the  old-fashioned  horse-car,  which  runs 
through  the  street,  a  couple  alighted 
whose  faces  did  not  suggest  that  they 
were  a  happy  bride  and  groom  upon  their 
wedding-tour.  They  entered  the  house 
where  Mr.  Abrahams  did  business,  as 
cended  the  stairs,  and  came  into  the  office 
without  knocking.  Abrahams's  face  was 
wreathed  with  smiles  as  he  saw  them. 
He  rose  and  advanced  toward  them, 
extending  both  hands.  His  expression 
changed  as,  to  his  surprise,  the  fair 
Rebecca  struck  him  full  in  the  face  with 
her  parasol. 

"  You  miserable  wretch  !  What  do 
you  mean  by  marrying  me  to  a  bankrupt 
merchant  ?  " 


THE    RUIN    of   a    SCHATCHEN 

Before  he  could  answer,  Burnham, 
shaking  his  fist,  screamed  out : 

"  You  scoundrel,  where  are  the  $80,- 

000  you  told  me  this  wife  had  ?  " 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  I  was  a  poor 
woman  ?  "  said  the  bride. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  stammered  the  Schatchen, 
"  you  did  !  You  did  !  You  said  you 
had  $1,000,  and  you  would  give  me 
$500." 

"  Then  why  did  you  tell  this  man  that 

1  was  worth  $80,000  ?  " 

"Why  did  you  prevaricate ?"  thun 
dered  Burnham. 

"  Well,  I  saw  her  letters.  They  were 
in  her  satchel,  and  I  read  them." 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  sneak  as  well  as  a  pre 
varicator,  then  !  "  screamed  Rebecca. 

Then  both  bride  and  groom  fell  upon 
the  Schatchen  and  smote  him  hip  and 
thigh.  There  was  a  fierce  struggle,  and 
the  last  seen  of  Abraham  Abrahams  he 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


was  dashing  down  East  Broadway,  his 
clothes  torn,  and  a  stream  of  blood  trick 
ling  from  his  nose,  while  Mr.  Burnham 
was  bawling  at  the  top  of  his  lungs  from 
the  office- window : 

"  I'll  have  a  warrant  out  for  you  to 
day  from  Essex  Market  and  send  you  to 
Sing  Sing  for  robbing  me." 

Time  works  wonders,  and  in  spite  of 
the  mutual  deception,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Burnham  are  living  a  very  happy  married 
life.  She  proved  as  skilful  in  helping 
him  in  his  business  as  she  had  in  winning 
him  as  a  husband. 

Of  Abraham  Abrahams,  it  is  said  that 
he  is  conducting  a  schatchen-business  in 
Cincinnati,  and  is  so  poor  that  his  office 
is  on  the  curbstone. 


[  172] 


A  Monument  of  Patience 

WHEN  Rebecca  Gruenwald  was 
graduated  at  Wellesley  Col 
lege,  the  joy  of  being  the  first 
scholar  of  her  class  was  more  than  balanced 
by  the  news  she  had  received  that  morn 
ing  from  her  home  in  New  York.  Her 
father  had  failed,  his  health  had  broken 
down,  and  it  was  necessary  for  her  to 
take  up  the  burden  of  life  on  her  own 
account  and  become  a  bread-winner.  She 
received  the  congratulations  of  scholars, 
teachers,  and  friends  with  quiet  dignity, 
and  late  in  the  evening  took  the  train 
for  the  metropolis. 

Upon  arrival  at  her  home  on  Henry 
Street  she  found  her  worst  fears  realized. 
Her  father,  who,  when  she  last  saw  him 
had  been  in  seeming  health  and  strength, 

[  '73  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


was  now  an  invalid,  while  her  mother 
looked  ten  years  older.  Her  younger 
brother  had  left  college  and  was  already 
earning  a  livelihood.  It  seems  that  her 
father  had  invested  nearly  all  of  his  money 
in  what  appeared  to  be  a  legitimate,  sub 
stantial  enterprise,  acting  upon  the  advice 
of  a  lawyer  for  whom  he  had  the  highest 
regard.  The  enterprise  proved  a  swindle, 
all  of  the  old  man's  money  being  swept 
away,  and  liabilities  coming  up  which 
threatened  to  overwhelm  him  for  the  rest 
of  his  life  with  unsatisfied  claims.  Some 
eight  or  ten  men  had  been  ruined  in  this 
matter,  the  only  one  who  had  come  out 
of  the  affair  unscathed  having  been  the 
lawyer.  An  investigation  by  the  District 
Attorney  had  been  made,  but  without 
giving  any  encouragement  to  the  victims 
of  the  swindle.  There  was  no  doubt 
but  what  the  lawyer  was  morally  guilty, 
yet  he  was  a  shrewd  practitioner,  and 

[  174  ] 


A    MONUMENT    of   PATIENCE 

had  not  violated  the  law  in  any  way  so 
far  as  was  known.  He  had  acted  through 
several  catspaws,  who  had  vanished  when 
the  final  collapse  occurred. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  Rebecca  had 
started  on  a  new  career.  She  translated 
her  name  from  Gruenwald  to  Greenwood, 
not  because  she  was  ashamed  of  the  Ger 
man,  but  because  she  did  not  wish  to 
fight  social  prejudices.  She  opened  a 
cigar-stand  in  the  big  office-building 
where  Mr.  Goslyn,  the  lawyer,  had  his 
place  of  business.  Her  friends  were  some 
what  surprised  at  her  action,  but  admired 
her  for  her  pluck.  They  thought  it  was 
very  curious  that  she  should  have  begun 
business  in  the  same  building  where  Mr. 
Goslyn  was,  but  she  dismissed  their  ques 
tions  with  the  curt  reply  that  it  was  the 
only  place  where  she  could  engage  in 
trade.  Before  the  failure,  her  family  had 
resided  in  a  handsome,  old-fashioned 

[  1 75  J 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


house  on  Henry  Street,  not  far  from 
Clinton,  but  Gruenwald,  who  was  the 
soul  of  probity,  had  given  up  house  and 
everything  else  to  his  creditors,  and  had 
taken  a  small  apartment  a  few  blocks 
from  the  old  home. 

Leah's  business  prospered  from  the 
first.  After  a  month  she  did  so  well  that 
she  engaged  a  little  cousin  as  a  clerk. 
She  came  to  her  place  of  business  early 
in  the  morning,  dressed  with  faultless 
taste,  left  it  for  half  an  hour  at  noon  for 
her  luncheon,  and  remained  there  until 
nearly  all  the  tenants  of  the  building  had 
departed  for  the  day.  She  must  have 
had  a  natural  genius  for  trade,  because 
nearly  every  day  she  learned  or  thought 
out  something  which  proved  of  profit. 
One  was  the  keeping  a  stock  of  stamped 
envelopes.  Another  was  supplying  visit 
ing  cards  and  writing  them  when  de 
sired.  Her  chirography  was  admirable, 


A    MONUMENT    of   PATIENCE 

and  hardly  a  day  passed  but  she  wrote 
several  dozen  for  customers.  She  noticed 
also  that  lawyers  and  clients  when  they 
won  cases  were  apt  to  celebrate  it  with 
festivities,  and  while  in  that  mood  were 
always  wont  to  buy  expensive  cigars  and 
costly  knick-knacks.  For  their  bene 
fit  she  kept  several  boxes  of  cigars  at  $i 
apiece,  and  a  few  choice  holders  in  meer 
schaum  and  amber,  for  which  when  sold 
she  obtained  very  high  prices. 

By  degrees  she  came  to  know  all  the 
people  in  the  building,  and  to  win  their 
esteem.  Her  cousin  noticed  that  she 
made  apparently  a  special  effort  to  win 
the  friendship  of  Mr.  Goslyn's  clerks  and 
his  neighbors  on  the  same  floor  of  the 
building.  In  this  she  was  very  success 
ful.  The  office-boys  of  Mr.  Goslyn's 
place  had  each  a  small  credit  at  her  stand, 
and  the  two  young  men  who  were  junior 
clerks  in  the  law-office  were  her  most 

[  177  J 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


devoted  admirers.  Strangest  of  all,  Mr. 
Goslyn  came  to  take  a  deep  interest  in 
the  pretty  stand-keeper.  She  treated  him 
with  great  dignity  and  yet  affability. 
The  result  was  that  he  purchased  every 
thing  which  he  possibly  could  at  her 
counter,  and  occasionally  left  flowers  and 
fruits  as  a  token  of  regard.  The  cousin 
observed  that  she  never  touched  the  fruits, 
and  that  the  flowers  were  always  thrown 
into  the  gutter  when  business  was  over. 

At  the  end  of  six  months  Mr.  Goslyn, 
in  running  over  his  books,  noticed  that 
business  was  falling  off.  New  clients  did 
not  come  to  him  with  much  regularity, 
and  old  clients  went  off  to  new  lawyers. 
At  the  end  of  a  year  the  change  was 
more  marked,  and  Goslyn  felt  slightly 
alarmed.  To  add  to  his  discomfort,  he 
found  that  his  popularity  was  on  the 
wane.  It  had  been  a  matter  of  profes 
sional  habit  with  him  to  wear  a  perpetual 


A    MONUMENT    of   PATIENCE 

smile,  and  to  assume  an  air  of  camaraderie 
which  was  foreign  to  his  nature ;  but  it 
had  always  proved  a  profitable  investment, 
and  for  many  years  had  made  him  one 
of  the  most  liked  tenants  in  the  building. 
He  spoke  about  it  to  Leah  at  one  time, 
who  looked  very  thoughtful,  and  said : 

"  It  is  probably  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  people  here  do  not  appreciate  you  at 
your  full  worth.  With  your  high  stand 
ing  at  the  bar,  and  your  fine  character,  I 
think  you  would  make  a  deeper  impres 
sion  if  you  were  calm  and  dignified, 
rather  than  kind  and  genial." 

Goslyn's  chest  expanded  as  he  swal 
lowed  the  bait,  and  he  thanked  the  young 
woman  for  her  advice.  The  next  day, 
to  the  surprise  of  the  elevator-boys,  his 
demeanor  was  as  cold  and  chilling  as  that 
of  an  iceberg.  People  who  were  accus 
tomed  to  his  smile  looked  in  amazement 
at  the  distorted  frown  which  now  ap- 

[  179  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


peared  upon  his  countenance.  The  result, 
as  may  have  been  expected,  was  to  pro 
duce  two  new  feelings  in  the  building. 
The  younger  element  said  that  he  was 
"  putting  on  airs,"  and  had  grown  insuf 
ferably  conceited.  The  older  and  wiser 
element  declared  that  he  had  been  having 
serious  business  trouble,  and  was  trying 
to  conceal  it  beneath  an  ill-timed  hauteur. 
But  both  of  these  feelings  worked  against 
the  lawyer.  His  dwindling  popularity 
rapidly  disappeared,  and  ere  another  year 
had  gone  by  he  was  the  most  disliked 
man  in  the  huge  structure. 

About  this  time  his  two  clerks  left  him 
and  opened  offices  of  their  own  upon  the 
same  floor.  He  sneered  at  their  depart 
ure  at  first,  but  soon  saw  that  it  was  a 
more  serious  matter  than  he  had  con 
ceived.  Nearly  one-third  of  his  clients, 
and  those  the  best,  went  with  the  young 
men. 

[  180] 


A    MONUMENT    of   PATIENCE 

Two  months  after  this,  while  he  was 
away  arguing  a  case  in  the  Court  of  Ap 
peals,  someone  broke  into  his  office  and 
stole  the  contents  of  his  safe.  He  en 
gaged  private  detectives,  but  did  not  re 
port  the  loss  to  the  police.  The  tenants, 
to  whom  this  seemed  a  strange  proceed 
ing,  talked  the  matter  over,  and  reported 
it  to  the  superintendent  of  the  building, 
who  in  turn  called  upon  the  captain  of 
the  precinct. 

The  next  day  the  ward-detective  in 
terviewed  Mr.  Goslyn,  who  seemed  very 
much  distressed  at  the  episode. 

He  informed  the  officer  that  no  money 
had  been  taken,  although  there  were 
more  than  $100  in  the  safe,  and  that  the 
papers  concerned  clients,  and  were  of 
great  importance  on  account  of  family 
secrets.  His  explanation  was  so  labored 
that  the  ward-detective  returned,  not  to 
the  station-house,  but  to  Police  Head- 
[  'Si  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


quarters,  where  he  had  a  long  consulta 
tion  with  the  head  of  the  Central  Office 
detectives.  Although  Mr.  Goslyn  was 
unaware  of  the  fact,  he  himself  was  put 
under  surveillance,  and  for  the  next  four 
weeks  did  little  that  was  not  known  in 
Mulberry  Street. 

Whether  that  distinguished  institution 
had  any  idea  of  the  trouble  upon  the  law 
yer's  mind  is  uncertain ;  but  a  very  clear  and 
active  intellect  knew  well  what  was  going 
on.  It  belonged  to  Leah,  to  whom  every 
thing  which  had  occurred  seemed  to  have 
been  expected.  Thus,  when  a  detective 
reported  to  head-quarters  that  Goslyn  had 
telegraphed  one  day  to  two  witnesses  in 
respect  to  a  case  pending  in  the  Supreme 
Court,  Leah  had  received  from  the  tele 
graph-operator  in  the  building  the  names 
and  addresses  of  the  people  to  whom  the 
telegrams  had  been  sent.  Forty-eight 
hours  afterward,  when  a  curiously  worded 

182 


A    MONUMENT    of   PATIENCE 

despatch  was  sent  from  the  office  to  Mr. 
Goslyn  upstairs,  a  copy  of  it,  by  some 
strange  coincidence,  happened  to  be  given 
to  Leah  at  the  same  time. 

In  the  newspapers  the  next  day,  in  the 
column  of  telegraphic  news,  was  the  an 
nouncement  that  two  New  Yorkers  had 
been  arrested  on  a  charge  of  complicity 
in  a  series  of  big  swindles  which  had  oc 
curred  two  years  previously.  A  week 
afterward  Goslyn's  office  was  besieged 
by  reporters.  The  day  previous  he  had 
been  arrested,  his  property  levied  upon, 
and  attachments  issued  against  a  num 
ber  of  banks,  trust  companies,  and  safe- 
deposit  corporations  upon  accounts  held 
in  various  names.  Mr.  Goslyn  was  a 
good  fighter,  and  when  the  motion  to  va 
cate  the  attachments  and  order  of  arrest 
was  argued  in  the  Supreme  Court,  he 
was  represented  by  a  galaxy  of  legal 
talent.  His  affidavits  made  out  a  seeming 

[  '83  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


case  of  absolute  and  injured  innocence. 
But  when  it  came  to  the  hearing  of  the 
other  side  (that  of  Mr.  Gruenwald,  who 
was  in  court  sitting  alongside  of  Leah), 
a  series  of  thunderbolts  falling  into  the 
room  could  not  have  produced  a  greater 
sensation.  The  lawyer,  a  handsome  young 
man,  known  to  the  bar  as  a  practitioner  of 
quiet  manners  but  rare  ability,  produced 
a  series  of  papers,  and,  using  these  as 
notes,  gave  Mr.  Goslyn's  history  and  his 
relations  with  Gruenwald  in  a  manner 
that  left  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  any 
listener  as  to  the  defendant's  complete 
guilt.  In  fact,  it  was  clear  that  the  great 
swindle  had  been  Goslyn's  own  creation 
from  the  beginning,  and  that  the  poor 
catspaws  who  had  run  away  were  merely 
tools  in  the  hands  of  the  master-criminal. 
The  life  of  each  catspaw  was  traced,  his 
actions  and  flight  related,  the  money  ac 
counted  for  which  each  had  received  and 


A    MONUMENT    of   PATIENCE 

which  had  supported  him  abroad,  the 
banks  which  had  sent  the  money  located, 
the  accounts  drawn  against  laid  bare,  and, 
finally,  the  proof  adduced  that  all  these 
accounts  were  Goslyn's,  kept  in  both  his 
own  and  other  names.  The  papers  which 
had  been  in  the  safe  were  produced  in 
court  and  with  them  photographic  copies, 
so  that  in  the  event  of  their  disappearance 
or  suppression  their  incriminating  evi 
dence  could  not  be  destroyed.  These 
gave  the  complete  history  of  every  action 
which  went  to  make  up  the  swindle. 
The  affidavits  of  the  former  clerks  and  of 
the  office-boys  covered  every  loophole  of 
escape.  It  did  not  appear  that  these  em 
ployees  had  any  criminal  knowledge  of 
the  transactions,  or  that  Goslyn  had  taken 
anyone  into  his  confidence,  excepting  the 
two  catspaws,  and  even  these  had  been 
creatures  rather  than  accomplices. 

When  the  lawyer   closed  his  case  the 

[  '85  ] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


judge  denied  the  motion  to  vacate  with 
the  remark,  "  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot 
render  judgment  absolute,  because  I  never 
before  had  a  case  so  clearly  and  thor 
oughly  presented  as  this  has  been  on  the 
part  of  the  plaintiff,  Gruenwald.  I  beg 
to  congratulate  you,  sir,  upon  the  rare 
excellence  of  your  work/' 

The  lawyer  smiled  and  bowed  as  he 
answered  : 

"  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart  for  this  high  eulogy,  which  is  de 
served — though  not  by  myself.  This 
wonderful  preparation  has  been  made  by 
a  woman  without  any  aid,  either  profes 
sional  or  financial,  from  third  parties. 
The  lady  in  question  is  Miss  Leah  Green 
wood,  the  daughter  of  the  plaintiff,  who 
is  now  sitting  in  court  with  her  father." 

The  announcement  almost  stunned 
Goslyn ;  and  then  a  light  broke  in  upon 
him.  He  knew  enough  German  to  realize 
[  186] 


A    MONUMENT    of   PATIENCE 

that  Greenwood  was  the  English  version 
of  Gruenwald,  and  he  cursed  himself  for 
his  folly  in  not  having  thought  of  it  be 
fore.  Then  he  recalled  how  he  had 
often  in  friendly  converse  told  incidents 
of  that  very  case  to  the  girl,  who  had 
smiled  and  shown  such  interest  in  his 
stories.  He  also  remembered,  with  an 
inward  curse,  how  popular  she  had  been 
with  his  employees  and  with  all  his  clients ; 
and  it  dawned  on  him  that  she  was  the 
cause  of  the  decay  in  his  business. 

He  never  understood  before  why  Ger 
mans  and  French,  Russians  and  Jews 
had,  all  by  degrees,  deserted  his  offices. 
Now  that  he  recalled  the  singular  linguis 
tic  talent  which  he  had  so  often  admired 
in  Leah  when  she  sold  goods  in  various 
languages  over  her  counter,  he  saw  how 
the  thing  had  come  about.  If  curses 
could  produce  results,  Leah  would  not 
have  left  that  court-room  alive.  Yet  in 

[  187] 


GHETTO    SILHOUETTES 


the  heart  of  the  lawyer  was  an  apprecia 
tion  of  the  talent,  bravery,  and  patience 
which  had  enabled  the  dark-eyed,  slender 
girl  to  undo  all  his  actions,  and  to  punish 
him  for  his  misdeeds.  He  leaned  over 
to  his  senior  counsel  and  made  one  re 
mark  : 

"  I  think  the  game  is  up,  but  isn't  she 
a  hummer  !  " 

And  the  elderly  lawyer  nodded  approv 
ingly  as  he  replied : 

"  She  ought  to  have  been  a  member  of 
the  bar.  If  she  had  been,  she  would 
have  beaten  you  and  me  together." 

Mr.  Gruenwald  did  not  get  back  all  of 
the  money  he  lost.  Goslyn  had  squan 
dered  a  good  portion  of  his  ill-gotten 
gains,  but  enough  was  recovered  to  enable 
the  old  man  to  move  back  to  his  former 
home  and  enjoy  comparative  affluence. 

The  cigar-stand  was  sold  at  a  very  hand 
some  profit,  the  celebrity  of  the  case  in- 
[  188  ] 


A    MONUMENT    of   PATIENCE 

creasing  its  market  value  by  about  thirty 
per  cent.  Goslyn  is  practising  law  in 
Chicago  at  present,  and  is  said  to  be  doing 
well.  And  not  long  since  Mr.  Gruen- 
wald  sent  out  the  betrothal  cards  of  Leah 
and  the  young  lawyer  who  had  repre 
sented  him  in  the  lawsuit. 


[  '89] 


R 

01 


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